#and roy has his old uniform! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beybaldes · 1 year ago

Text

And somehow I know that you and I would've found each other

roy kent x gn!reader

word count : 8.7k

masterlist

summary : you and roy always end up finding your way back to each-other

content warning : taylor popped the fuck off with the speak now vault tracks especially timeless (another timeless fic coming out soon!!!!), slow burn that takes place over 36 years - dermatologists hate me! Roy’s sister is dubbed Molly yet again, I steal britanny brett for plot because I’m obsessed with @onceuponaoneshotfanfic and superstar (check it out now if you still haven’t, and if you have already, then reread it!!!!!!)

It's 1991 and youre not old enough to understand why your neighbour, and best friends older brother Roy, has to move away. You're only 4 years old, and so is Molly, and Roy's only 9 - so you're not sure why he's going away, where he's going, or if he's ever going to come back.

All you do know is that you and Molly's little arms are wrapped tightly around each other and you feel like it's never going to be enough to fill the hole of Roy's absence.

It's a cool September morning and Roy knows that December 19th - the day he gets to come back home for Christmas - is exactly 107 days away, but not even the last dregs of summers warmth can make this moment something he's going to look back fondly on.

He's got blankie folded perfectly at the bottom of his backpack and your favourite teddy bear wrapped up in it. Even though he wouldn't discover it until he'd arrived at Sunderland, you knew it was there and that Roy would look after it, and it made everything feel just a little bit better.

When Roy's Grandad announces that it's time to go, he gives you and Molly one last hug, pressing a kiss to both of your heads and promising to write and call whenever he can. You and Molly chase the car until the end of the street, where it turns a corner and Molly's mum calls you back to the house; you linger long enough to watch Roy turn from one of your best friends into a blurry figure in the back of a car.

Ms Kent gives you and Molly ice lolly's from the freezer and puts on 'Cinderella' while you eat them. She then sits through 'Sleeping Beauty,’ ‘The Little Mermaid', and 'Beauty and the Beast' with the two of you until your tears have long since stopped and you've fallen asleep in each others arms.

The following morning, Ms Kent nearly has a heart attack when she doesn't find you in Molly's bed, but her worry is soon ended when she realises the door to Roy's room is half opened and you're quietly curled up in tear stained sheets. Slowly, she wakes you up, and when fresh tears spring to your eyes she's quick to pull you into her arms. As she rocks you gently in her hold, she promises you that the prince always returns to the princess; even if it takes breaking a curse or waiting for 100 years.

They always find each-other in the end and live happily ever after.

And 107 days is nothing when you're 4 years old, it's the blink of an eye and sticky melted ice lolly on your hands, it's your first ever school uniform and glitter from Christmas crafts that you cant get off you no matter how many showers you take, and it goes by even quicker when Roy comes home 10 days sooner then expected.

You don't see him for the first 5 days. Roy locked himself away in his room and refused to come out or speak to anyone. But when the sixth day, and the weekend, finally rolls around, you decide to do something about it.

For a 9 year old, Roy sure had a lot to think about. He never got to say goodbye to his grandad, and he wasn't going to teach him how to ride a bike, or see him score his first professional goal, or get married, and he didn't know how to explain that when he went back to Sunderland come new year, he wasn't going away in the same capacity granddad had.

No 9 year old should've been thinking of all that.

Roy hadn't been expecting any visitors, not that he wanted any, but when you barged your way into his bedroom, he couldn't bring himself to send you away.

"Go away." Roy had growled, hidden beneath blankie and curled tightly into himself. "I want to be alone." Roy hadn't meant a lick of it and you hadn't believed any of it either.

"No, you don't." Though you had to wriggle your little self into his arms, you did it, and beamed proudly against his pyjama clad chest when he let you cuddle up to him. Roy had hugged you tightly, pulling you closer to him and wrapping blankie tightly around you both. "I missed you, Royo."

"You packed Dave in my bag." Roy stated, not asking why, or whether you wanted the teddy bear back, or telling you that he'd actually left it in Sunderland for when he went back in a few weeks time.

"You need him more then I do." Roy just nodded his head at your words, willing himself not to cry at the guilt he felt over leaving you and Molly behind and thinking about something other then his grandad. "And, if you have Dave, and Dave is mine, then you have to come and give him back to me. You have to come back from sundayland."

"Sunderland."

"What's that?" You tilted your head up to look at Roy, and found him already looking at you, half a smile on his lips.

"It's nothing."

Both you and Roy fell asleep in his room, under the safety of blankie, talking about 'sundayland' and everything good about his time there. It wasn't until tea time that his mum found the two of you and dragged you down stairs for dinner, teasing Roy once you'd gone home that you definitely had a little crush on him.

~*~

Roy's transfer to Chelsea once the season is over is announced just before your 16th birthday and you swear it's the best birthday present you've ever gotten. He's newly 21 and he's got this shaggy mullet thing going on that really shouldn't be working for him, but it is. You can't keep your eyes off of him, and Roy pretends not to notice for what he tells himself is your sake. He knows it isn't.

When his car pulls up in the drive for the first time since the weekend he came down for Mollys birthday, you and Molly run out of the house hand in hand to greet him, crying his name. He lets the two of you crash into him and wrap your arms tightly around him, almost squeezing him to death when he finds himself sandwiched between the two of you.

Roy's barely been on home soil for 10 seconds when Molly pulls away from the hug to look up at her big brother with the best puppy dog eyes she can muster up at 16. "Will you buy us drinks to take to leavers?”

"Fuck off, buy your own." You don't unwrap your arms from around Roy while they bicker, quite enjoying the familiarity of the scene before you. It was almost too long ago to fathom the last time Roy had been home long enough to start a fight with Molly, and though you never thought you'd say it, it was really nice to see.

"Incase you lost some brain cells this season, you have to be 18 to buy alcohol, fuckhead." Roy just stared blankly at Molly, and ran his fingers up and down the length of your arm as you stayed curled in his side, thinking about how similar Roy and Molly really are when it comes down to it. "So, I need you to buy it for us."

"Ask mum to buy it for you."

Molly immediately scoffs, throwing her hands in the air and muttering under her breath that she was genuinely concerned that Roy had lost some brain cells from all the headers he'd done this season. "Don't you think I tried that, dumbass? Mum said no to both of us."

Roy's gaze turned to meet yours, surprised to find you already looking at him. "Please Royo, everyone else will be drinking at leavers." Roy could never say no to you, and he was convinced both you and Molly knew that and had concocted this scheme to get him to buy it for you. He didn't mind saying yes, at least not this time, at least not when it was you asking.

Molly ran back into the house with an excited cry, promising to return with all the money she'd owe Roy for the drinks plus some as a charitable donation for his kindness.

For the first time in almost a year, you and Roy where completely alone together. He spared a moment to look at you, really look at you; notice how your hair had gotten longer and that your sense of style had completely changed, that the early summer sun was already tanning your skin and that you still had your arms around him. Roy only tightened his grip on you, dragging you into and around the house with him until you made it to the living room.

His mum had repainted since he'd last been down to visit from Sunderland and there were new photos on the wall behind the settee; mainly of you and Molly on your last day of school and one of Roy at his last match playing for Sunderland.

"You look like a proper footballer now, Royo." Despite every other seat in the living room being free, you took purchase on the arm of the chair right beside Roy and pray no one thinks it's a sign of the bubbling feelings you have for him. You may only be 16 but you're sure you've been in love with Roy for the better part of your life. It's one thing for everyone to tease you about you and Roy having little crushes on each other as kids, it's a whole other thing for people to tease you for having a crush on him when you actually did.

Roy scoffed, taking a long swig from the beer he'd grabbed from the kitchen when he first got to the house, swallowing down his smile. "But not enough for you to stop calling me 'Royo,' apparently."

"You could be the most famous footballer on the planet and I'd still call you Royo." You reached up for his hair and ruffled it, laughing at the way he pulled away from your touch and went to flatten his hair back out almost immediately. "But I mean it, you look like the kind of footballer kids have posters of up on their walls, that they want to be when they grow up."

And you're entirely right. Somewhere up in Manchester, a 6 year old Jamie Tartt is pinning a poster of your Roy up on his wall and promising himself, and his dad, that all of his time and money spent on football practice will one day pay off - that he's going to be one of the greats, just like Roy Kent.

"You'll always be my Royo, Roy. Even when you're super famous and don't remember me anymore." Your hand had somehow found it's way back into Roy's hair and he couldn't bring himself to move away from your touch. Since his sudden rise to fame, in which it seemed like he'd become an overnight sensation, he couldn't remember when he was last touched so gently. Touching only to touch, not because they wanted something from him or his name.

Roy couldn't keep in the smile that pulled at his lips. It faltered slightly at the fact he couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled, let alone genuinely, but it quickly returned and warmed his face when he meet your eyes. "And how could I ever forget the likes of you, yeah?"

Somewhere between shared words and glances, his hand had found yours and the two of you couldn't tear your eyes away from the other. "Dinners ready, guys." Molly was well known for her perfect timing, and despite some initial upset at the moment being taken from you, you knew it was for the better. Roy was Molly's brother, your best friends brother, who had 5 years on you yet. Though you knew it was unlikely anything would ever happen between the two of you, moments like this made you think there was a small possibility something one day would. The thought wasn't one worth seriously entertaining. "Did I... interrupt something?"

"What? No way." You and Molly ran from the room hand in hand, giggles bubbling past your lips and exchanged, in hushed whispers, the conversation that Molly had just walked in on.

It was like Roy had never left as he followed the two of you into the dining room. He took his seat across the table from you like he always did and knocked his foot against yours every time he wanted your attention. Dinner was good and before he knew it you were half on top of him on the sofa, sneaking bites from his plate of dessert as everyone else partook in the worlds most heated game of Pictionary.

He gave a sharp nudge to your ribs when you stole the last bite but quickly soothed it over with the gentle drumming of his fingers against your skin. The pair of you talked in hushed tones for the rest of the evening about his transfer to Chelsea and everything he was looking forward to now that he was back in London, as well as all your plans for your super long summer before you started college in September.

It was only when Roy's mum turned to ask if you were going home or staying over that anyone had noticed the two of you cuddled up in the armchair in the corner of the room, both fast asleep. She didn't dare wake you, thankful to see her son at peace for the first time in what felt like years, instead placing a blanket over the two of you and ushering Molly up to bed despite her insistence that you come with her.

One day, she thought, the two of you would finally see yourselves in other people, realise that if love looks like that then the two of you must be in it, and with any luck she'd still be alive to see it. She knew Roy was stubborn enough to keep that from happening. Maybe he would't be this time; at least, not when it came to you.

~*~

When the rumours of Roy's relationship with Britanny Brett are confirmed by a quote she gives in an interview, he finds himself typing out an apology to you. He stares at his phone for 3 hours and the most he can type out is 'I didn't want you to find out like this, I'm sorry,' but he still doesn't send it. Roy's not entirely sure what he's apologising for.

It's the night before his 27th birthday and he's debating whether or not he should show up to the birthday dinner his mum has planned for him tomorrow. You'll be there. He knows it. But only because he knows that Molly dragged you back from uni with her just for the occasion. And for some reason that he can't quite place, or just doesn't want to yet, he feels bad about having to see your face and hear you talk about his girlfriend.

Although Brittany Brett is smoking hot, and they have really great sex, he's not sure he wants to take her home to meet his family. To meet you. Sure, she's a great footballers girlfriend, but he's a little worried about what the people who know him as just Roy will think of her.

When she appears on the other side of his door the morning of his 27th birthday, the first thing he says to her is 'you can't come to my birthday party' and he feels like he's 8 years old again and making mortal enemies in the playground at school. She doesn't acknowledge his comment, instead inviting herself in and making herself at home in Roy's living room, and he's never been more thankful for her 'too good for everyone' demeanour.

He drops her off at her house on the way over to his mums house later that evening. Roy decides he hates the way her perfume lingers in his car and has buried itself under his skin. He wants nothing more then for it to get away from him but there's still 20 minutes left of the drive and he knows the second you hear the car pull up you'll come running out the door and he won't have anytime to get the smell off of him.

When he pulls up on the doorstep of his childhood home 20 minutes later, only Molly comes running from the house to greet him. For a minute he thinks you haven't shown up to celebrate his birthday with him and he feels his heart break in two. He tells himself he doesn't know why. However, when he walks into the house and heads straight to the kitchen in search of a beer to calm his nerves, and help him forget about you, he finds you there, helping his mum with making his favourite dinner and a wide smile on your face.

You notice him lingering, shocked, in the doorway and pull him into your arms. There's less strength to your hold then he's used to but he feels grateful that you even want him in your arms after everything he's done. Now Roy really isn't sure why he's talking like that; like you've been hard done by from his relationship with Brittany Brett. To a degree he feels like he's cheated on you, but he can't have done because the two of you were never together. However, he doesn't let the thought linger, instead pulling you tighter against him and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Of course you'd be here, of course you would, but he finds himself holding onto you for a little longer then he probably should just to make sure you're really here and really staying.

Dinner is nice. It's a piece of simplicity he's missed every night since he was 9 years old and heading away to Sunderland for the first time. It's not often nowadays that he gets to eat dinner at a dining table surrounded by people he loves and who love him, so he relishes in every moment of it. He lets his hand brush against yours when he asks for the salt and he nudges your foot with his every-time he wants your attention. Being in this room, in this seat, with you, is like being 8 years old again and everything bad is yet to happen to him. Roy realises he likes the feeling of it more then he ever remembers.

No one brings up Brittany Brett, the way Roy smelt like her when you hugged him, the apology he never sent, or the way you cried in Molly and Ms Kent's arms when you found out he had a girlfriend. Dinner is peaceful and you and Roy share a slice of birthday cake on his Grandad's armchair, then fall asleep together there like he doesn't have a girlfriend and you don't have a broken heart.

His mum feels like she's got two children in her house and she wishes it would stay like this forever, as long as that meant Roy couldn't hurt your heart more then he already had. But Roy is stubborn, and she knows that. When she comes downstairs in the morning it's just you on the armchair with Roy's jacket over your shoulders like a blanket. You're hugging the material tightly against you as if it could ever replace Roy's presence, and even though you're still asleep, both of you know it won't.

When Roy sneaks out at 4am, the first thing he does is drive to Brittany Brett's house and breaks up with her. After all, there's no point being with someone when you know for a fact that you're in love with someone else.

~*~

Molly's dating this guy who doesn't let her speak to you, or Roy, or her own mum and you're scared for her life. In the two times you've managed to get a hold of her, you begged and pleaded with her to leave him. She's only 25 and so are you, you could run away together and start it all over and no one would know any different. Both times she said she wanted to be with him, that she loved him. All you want is your best friend back and for her to be safe, and rather selfishly, because you need her more then you've ever needed anyone.

Despite trying all day, you can't reach her, or her boyfriend, and you don't know who else to call. Ms Kent was the only real parental figure you'd had growing up, but it was pushing midnight and you didn't want to wake her up for the sake of your own comfort. Roy's number is below hers on your favourite contacts and you don't hesitate to ring it. You know he's got a match this weekend and practice tomorrow but you need someone and you have no one else to keep you from your own mind.

Roy's in some club in north London when his phone rings and his screen illuminates with your name and a picture of the two of you from last Christmas. It's one of the newcomers 21st birthday and he remembers being 21 and moving to Chelsea, moving back home, like it was yesterday. He's got 10 years on the kid who's just starting his career while he's going on aging out of it. It's almost enough to make him feel old.

He's quick to answer the phone, practically running out of the club to make sure he can hear you and he's already walking back to his car when he hears the suppressed sniffle to your voice. Roy can't see 100% past 9pm anymore so he doesn't drink when he goes out with the team, he knows it'll only make it worse, and for the first time ever, it's actually come in use.

It takes him 37 minutes exactly to drive from the club to your childhood home that's pressed brick by brick against his, and that's only because he made a pit stop to his own house on the way over. Every time he comes back here lately, it feels like some cruel trick of fate, that he can't have you but can have his entire life shaped by you.

He's banging his fist loudly against the door before he can take into consideration that your neighbours, one of which is his own mother, are likely asleep and wouldn't take too kindly to being woken up at this hour. When you open the door to a friendly face, you all but collapse into Roy's arms, already sobbing and heaving and trying to get the words out but not being able to do so. He scoops you up into his arms, years of intense football training allowing him to do it without second though, and carries you to your bedroom.

He placed you against the pillows and then kicks off his shoes, he definitely scuffed them up in the process but Roy couldn't seem to find the time to mind. Before you've managed to get a single word out Roy's stripped off the bulk of his suit, leaving him in just a shirt, boxers and socks. The image is kind of funny and if you weren't so devastated, you were sure you'd be laughing.

"What's wrong?" When Roy's hands gently wrap around your wrists to try and pull them away from your face and get a glance at you, you just start crying harder. "C'mon sweetheart, talk to me."

When he's met with more silence he pulls out his surprise weapon, a raggedy, old teddy bear, with matted fur that smells surprisingly like Roy. "Would it be easier to talk to Dave?" Finally your hands move away from your face to get a look at the teddy bear, not believing it's right in front of you when you know you haven't seen it since you were five yours old. It took a couple of minutes, lots of sniffling, and really willing yourself to say it, but eventually you did. Roy's arms around your and the soft touch of Dave's fur against your skin settling your nerves.

"My dad died this morning." Roy didn't hesitate to pull you into his lap, settling himself against your pillows as he brought you closer to him. "And I have no one to tell. Molly's boyfriend won't let her speak to me anymore, and I didn't want to burden your mum with it, and I just... I didn't know who to call or talk to and I know you were probably busy-"

"Hey, hey, don't. You did the right thing calling me. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, yeah?" Both of Roy's hands are cradling your face, forcing you to look at him and really listen to what he wants to say. "I'm here, okay? I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

You shuffle in his lap, turning enough that you can bury your head in the crook of his neck and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Roy's warm and surprisingly comfy, but you reckon that's more so because the skin of his thighs are pressing into the skin of yours and you're sure it's the closest you've ever been to him. You try not to think about how you wouldn't mind being this close to him more often.

The rest of the night is spent with you in Roy's arms, his hand running up and down your back, his other hand cradling your face and wiping away each tear that spills over. He lets you ramble and ramble about everything on your mind with no regard for the fact he's got practice at 8am tomorrow. Even when you fall asleep in his arms, tears staining his brand new shirt, practice is the furthest thing from his mind, so much so that he doesn't even remember sending Di Matteo the text saying he wasn't well and wouldn't be able to make practice in the morning.

Roy wakes up a long time before you, and he finds he has to practically drag himself away from you and the bed. When his eyes blink open he sees the sight he's spent the better part of his life waiting to see: you're in his arms, fast asleep, looking entirely peaceful and for a minute he can pretend that this is his life. While the haze of sleep has yet to fade, he can act like he wakes up to you every morning, that you love him like he loves you, and that, if he wanted to, he could press kisses all over your face until you woke up and flashed him that bright beautiful smile of yours.

If he wanted to, he could press kisses all over your face until you woke up and you would greet him with a soft smile, pressing a kiss to his face in return and not caring if it landed against his lips, cheek, or jaw, because you know you'll be able to kiss the other places whenever you like.

Roy pulls himself out of bed and drags his feet all the way to your kitchen where he cooks the two of you breakfast. Nothing about it is rushed - he knows that he has nowhere to be but here, with you. He knows you've woken up when he can hear the gentle padding of your feet against your bedroom floor. Roy hears you walk down the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where you then cross the room to him, and wrap your arms around his waist. Dave is clutched in on of your hands and your head is pressed against the dimples of his shoulder blades, your other hand fiddling with the hem of the front of his T-shirt, so casually that any passer by would think this was routine. And even though it isn't, Roy takes the risk of placing his hand atop your own and lacing his fingers through yours. When he can feel you smile into his back, he thinks maybe he should've kissed you in the bedroom, that maybe you'd have liked it just as much as he would've.

~*~

It's another year after your dad died before Molly finds out. She doesn't show up to Christmas, or Easter, but she comes by one late spring afternoon when Ms Kent had invited you and Roy over for picky bits in the garden, with a bin bag full of her belongings and a black eye. If your hand wasn't holding Roy's so tightly you were sure he would've been right out of the door, driving off to find the prick and give him an even worse beating then he'd given his sister.

You pull Roy with you when you cross the garden to engulf Molly in a hug, both of you breaking down at the contact and apologies tumbling from both of your lips. Molly apologises for not being there when your dad died, and not attending the funeral, you force her to take back her apology while also shoving your own down her throat, apologising for not finding her, for not being there. The two of you only cry harder when Roy pulls the two of you, still hugging, into his embrace. It's warm and his hands are big and it makes you feel like you're a child again, and you suppose that in some ways you still are.

It takes almost half an hour for the two of you to calm down enough for any coherent words to get out, and the first ones that do is that Molly's pregnant and she needs somewhere to stay. Immediately you ask her to move in with you. It's perfect really, you're next door to her mum and you've got a room for her and for the baby (when it comes) now that your dads passed. Roy likes the idea even more; something about his three, soon to be four, favourite people being in one place taking his fancy.

The eight months between Molly showing back up and beautiful baby Phoebe being born seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. The soft, warm, yellow paint of phoebes nursery smears your memories of those months; everything about it is caked in the glow of the summer you have when you're 5 years old and have no care in the world.

You and Molly are best friends again and it's like you never missed two years of each others lives; everything just falls right back into place. The two of you do everything together and you wouldn't have it any other way, even when everything includes being in the room with her and Ms Kent when she's giving birth.

Roy, unluckily, is the only one not invited into the room, and he spends almost 6 hours pacing back and forth and back and forth and back and forth in the waiting room, waiting for some kind of an update on his sister and his niece. It's you that comes to give it to him. You're in blue scrubs that you pull off further with every step you take into the waiting room, running right into Roy's arms with the widest smile he's ever seen cross your face.

"She's beautiful, Roy. She's so beautiful." He just nods his head and allows you to take his hand and pull him in the direction of the room Molly and his mum are in. "I love her so much already and she's only been here for 5 minutes."

Roy understood what you meant as soon as he walked into the room. Molly was absolutely glowing, and cradling this tiny, tiny baby in her arms like she was terrified any movement at all might hurt her - she didn't even look like she was breathing less it hurt the baby.

"Do you want to hold her?" You whispered, nudging his foot with yours to gain his attention. "You won't break her, promise." You didn't give Roy the opportunity to answer, instead eagerly taking the baby off of Molly and walking over to Roy. His mum all but pushed him into one of the chairs they had in the room and lectured him on how to hold the baby correctly. Slowly, you lowered her into his arms, making sure he had a comfortable and safe grip on her before you removed your arms from the little Phoebe completely. "Isn't she amazing?"

Roy can already picture it and it's breaking his heart. You, and him, and a little baby wrapped in a blanket with eyes that don't yet know how to open. But, in the daydream he doesn't tell anyone about, you're holding the baby and his arms are around you, whispering how much he loves you into your ear and promising to do everything for that baby. Your baby. He doesn't yet know if a day like that is ever going to come; he'd have to get over himself first, and he doesn't see that happening anytime soon. For you, however, he just might try.

"Yeah, yeah she is."

Molly and little baby Phoebe have to stay in the hospital overnight, but can be discharged in the morning, and Molly doesn't let any of you stay with her. In fact, she demands the three of you head home and come back tomorrow, well rested to drive her and newborn Phoebe home.

The three of you pick up some chinese takeout on your way home and eat it around Ms Kent's dinner table. Molly's absence is so heavily felt that part of you feels thrust back in time to a year ago, when you didn't have any contact with her and didn't know if she was even alive, let alone okay. It shakes you to your core and you leave your dinner half eaten as you excuse yourself to the bathroom just to breathe. When you return to the table, you find that dinner has been cleared away, but Ms Kent is holding out a spoon for you, pointing you in the direction of the living room.

Roy's sat in his grandads armchair with the biggest bowl of ice cream you've ever seen and he opens up his arms to you when he feels you staring at him from the doorway. You didn't hesitate to sit with him, squished up in the seat that fit the both of you slightly better when you were kids, with Roy's arm around your shoulders. When you didn't take a large helping of ice cream for yourself, he nudged the bowl in your direction.

"When Molly came home, I'd get in bed with her each night." You whispered, only loud enough that Roy would be able to hear you. It felt embarrassing, to try and explain why you felt Molly's absence for one night so vastly, but you knew that if anyone would get it, it would be Roy. "For the first month or so, she'd ask me to stay with her, so she knew she wasn't alone and she was safe. So I did. And then one night she was like 'I don't need you in bed with me anymore, I think I'm okay now,' and I didn't know what to do." You stuck your spoon inside the ice-cream, stirring it around the bowl but never bringing the build up of vanilla on the spoon to your lips. "I got in bed that night and I couldn't sleep at all, so I went and knocked on her door and she was still awake. Told me she couldn't sleep either, and I got right back into bed with her." Tears pricked at your eyes and your spoon fell against the bowl. "I don't know what to do without Molly, Royo, I don't want to have to do without her again."

Roy quickly moved the half eaten bowl of ice cream to the coffee table, pulling you into him and cradling your head against his shoulder. "Molly's not going anywhere, babe, she'll be home in the morning. Everything's going to be okay."

Neither of you brought up how he called you babe, and his mum didn't bring up how you fell asleep cuddled up in the armchair like you did when you were kids. But when Roy brought Phoebe and Molly home the following morning, and Molly and Ms Kent had taken Phoebe upstairs to get her settled into her new home, he pulled you in for a hug.

"Told you so." He whispered in your ear, pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple. Then Roy grabbed your hand, interlocking your fingers with his and pulling you up the stairs to join Phoebe in her new room. Dave was in his other hand and he continued to stand by you as you placed it in the crib with her, knowing that she needed Dave more then you or Roy did now.

All of you couldn't wait to watch this little girl grow up surrounded by people who loved her so, so much.

~*~

Roy gets transferred to Richmond just before Phoebe's 4th birthday and you tease him that he has a penchant for getting the best kinds of birthday present. He asks why you remember so clearly that his transfer to Chelsea 15 years ago was just before your 16th birthday, and you answer honestly that it was the only thing you'd wanted for your birthday that year - for Roy to be closer to home. You immediately get to tease him again as a blush coats his cheeks.

On his first day at Richmond, he gets you, Molly and Phoebe seats in the family box, says that they'll always be there if you ever want to come and watch him play, and you reply that you always watch him play.

"I've been playing professionally for half my life. Sunderland, Chelsea, and now Richmond. I've never seen you even glimpse at a football match."

You scoff immediately and Roy's slightly taken aback, you almost look angry at what he's saying and he doesn't know why because he's right. Not that it matters to him, but you just don't like football that much; he doesn't blame you or anything, each to their own, but he wishes you'd like it for him. "I've seen every game you've ever played."

"Yeah, right."

"Yeah, right." You turned to Roy, putting down the bag filled with Phoebe's first ever school uniform inside now that you'd made it back home. "I'm serious. I've watched every match you've ever played in. All of your games with Sunderland and Chelsea, and I'll watch all your games now that you're at Richmond." You turn to Roy with a tense crease in your brow and he's wishing he never brought it up. "You're important to me Roy, of course I'd watch every time you play."

"What's sundayland, babe?" Phoebe had ran into the living room when she'd heard the door go, excited that you and Roy returned home. Molly and you had called each other babe since you were teenagers, and Phoebe had taken to calling you babe over your actual name. It didn't help that Roy had let it slip a few time too, only reassuring her that she was calling you by the correct thing.

"It's nothing, pheeb's." You scooped the little blonde into your arms, resting her against your jutted out hip and beginning to wander through the house. "Where your mum? You need to try on your uniform."

"Can I give you a fashion show?" She asked, leaning her head against your shoulder in a way that had Roy thinking about the two of you with a kid again. He'd have to ask you out first, and with each year that passed, the possibility of him actually doing that seemed to get slimmer and slimmer.

"Of course you can, Pheeb's. Go get dressed. Me and your uncle Roy will wait in the living room."

You stuck to your word, watching every single match that Roy played in. Sometimes at Nelson road, sometimes with Molly and Phoebe, sometimes in Ms Kent's living room - but you always watched him play.

The first time Molly let you take Phoebe to Nelson road was as your birthday present the same year Phoebe turned 6. You'd been pleading all year for Molly to let you bring Phoebe along to a home game, and she finally caved - on the condition you kept her ear defenders on all night and left if it got too much for her. Phoebe loved every minute of the match, screamed her little heart out just for the sake of joining in, even if she didn't know what people were saying; You were certain her cry of 'uncle Roy' every time she saw him with the ball was the loudest in the stadium.

When the match was over, a man with glasses found you in the stands, introduced himself as 'Higgins,' handed you two family lanyards with Kent plastered all over them, and asked you to follow him. You're barely in the changing rooms when Phoebe lets go of your hand, crying Roy's name and interrupting a speak from that new, American coach that Roy had complained about.

"Phoebe!" The blonde didn't wait up for you, running right at Roy and knowing he'd catch her when she flung herself the remaining foot into his arms. "What did I tell you?"

"I didn't know grandad fancied himself a cradle robber." You'd heard enough complaints to know the dig at Roy was from Jamie Tartt, the season loan from Manchester City. "Surely, someone like you isn't married to someone like Roy."

The twinge of disgust that slipped from the mans mouth when he said Roy's name had your blood boiling. "Why? Would you rather me with the likes of you instead?"

Jamie stood in dumbfounded silence as you turned back to Roy, your face entirely brightening, and his presence being totally ignored for the rest of your stay in the lock room. He wasn't used to that. He was trying to compliment you, say you were way out of Roy's league - maybe even ask for your number - but you didn't even spare him a second glance. In fact, now that your eyes were back on him, he wasn't entirely sure you were ever going to look away from Roy again. It made sense when he thought about it in bed later that night, even though he teased the fuck out of Roy and sometimes plainly treated him like shit, Roy Kent was one of the greats. Even Jamie Tartt knew that, and had known it since he was 6 years old - of course he'd managed to score someone like you.

Murmurs of Roy Kent having a secret spouse and daughter had filled Nelson Road before you'd even left the building.

It wasn't that Roy didn't want to talk about you. If he had the opportunity, he'd scream about you from rooftops, but being a footballer was a very public affair and he loved his privacy. Almost as much as he loved you.

The dog track didn't think they'd ever see your face again, not when Roy had growled at them after he'd guided you and Phoebe out of the changing room. Unfortunately for them, they would, under the worst possible circumstances.

You'd been on the edge of your seat the whole match. Roy's been benched for the first time in what you're sure is his entire career and doesn't come on until the 60th minute and when he does, you swear he's on fire. He's playing better then he'd ever played before, running faster then he's ever ran in the past few years, and he's slide tackling Jamie Tartt and getting the ball away from the goal. People are screaming his name and so are you.

And then he's not getting up.

And then he's still not getting up.

And then he's still not getting up, the cheers have died down, and everyone's waiting with baited breath while it's determined if they've just seen the end of Roy Kent's 30 year long career with their own eyes.

And then Roy gets up, and for a fleeting moment you think that maybe everything's okay, that Roy's okay, and he's going to carry on playing.

And then he's walking from the pitch, limping, and your sprinting from your seat in the family box and running up to the owners box. You don't have to say a word because Rebecca calls a member of security over to you, and asks with a kind smile for him to guide you down to the changing rooms.

You linger outside the door for about 5 seconds before you push it open. If you were anyone else, you'd were certain he would've yelled at you to get out, even though he didn't mean it, just for the sake of his image. But you weren't anyone else, you were you.

"I'm fine." You hadn't even made it fully into the room and Roy was already trying to make his pain seem less bad then it was. "I'm fine. Go watch the rest of the match. You might have to drive us back to yours though."

"Roy." He doesn't say anything as you cross the room and sit beside him on the bench. You slowly wrap your arm around his shoulders and tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling his head down to rest against your shoulder. "Don't. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, yeah? You're important to me, let me be here for you."

Roy kisses you and you instantly realise you'd have waited 33 more years for it, if that meant it would happen.

His lips are chapped, and his beard is slightly scratchy, and he's already breathless before he even leans into it but you don't mind. You find that his lips slant against yours perfectly and he slides you closer against him on the bench, using the hand he'd placed on your hip to give it a squeeze, eliciting an gasp from you. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth but he pulls away before it can escalate.

You hope to anything listening that he wants to kiss you again, because you're sure he's ruined the touch of everyone else's lips against your skin for you.

"I've been in love with you since I was 5 years old." Roy pressed his lips back to yours in a quick succession of kisses and you're sure that thats a good sign.

"Since you were 5 years old?" He asks, nudging his nose against yours, pressing his lips firmly to yours when they brush slightly as he speaks. "Fuck, did we waste a lot of time."

~*~

Roy's been the manager of Richmond for the last 4 months and you're thankful that there's no football on over Christmas. You get Roy practically all to yourself for three weeks and it's the best feeling ever.

Phoebes still in school until the 22nd, and you live together at Roy's house, so there's no chance Molly will walk in on the two of you or his mum will hear you through the walls - meaning 90% of his first week off work is spent having sex on every surface in the house, in every position imaginable.

The second week off is the main bulk of Christmas. You pick Phoebe up from school on the 22nd and she has a sleep over at your house. The 23rd is spent curled up on your couch, with Phoebe sandwiched between the two of you, watching Christmas movies all day and stuffing your faces with popcorn and hot chocolate. Phoebe spends the night again, and then the three of you drive down to Ms Kent's house at lunchtime on the 24th. Molly comes home from work around 6pm and the 5 of spend the rest of the evening in the living room, watching 'love actually' and 'the polar express,' until it's time for bed. Even though you and Roy have been together for nearly 3 years now, you sleep in Molly's bed with her and Phoebe, reminiscing on the christmas's of your childhood and giggling over them until you fall asleep.

When christmas morning finally comes, you and Molly are the last awake, Phoebe jumping all over the two of you and demanding you get downstairs as soon as possible to see what Father Christmas has left for her. You let Phoebe drag you down stairs even though you're barely awake and you crawl into Roy's lap, in his grandads armchair, at the first opportunity. He's already got a coffee made for you, just the way you like it, and a warm hand that he slips up the back of your tshirt to scratch gently against your skin as you watch Phoebe begin to open her mountain of presents.

"How many of these are from you?" You whisper, feeling Roy smile against your temple as you sip on your coffee, slowly waking up in his arms.

"Enough. They're not all for Pheeb's anyway." Roy picks you up enough to adjust your position in his lap, making it more comfortable for the both of you to sit and talk and watch presents getting opened. "Some for my mum, some for Molly, some for you."

"You're too kind to me, baby." You lean up enough to press a kiss to Roy's lips, ignoring the loud screech Phoebe lets out at the display of affection. "I got some stuff for you under there too, handsome."

"I don't see you under that tree, Father Christmas clearly mustn't have got my list." Even though you're not looking directly at Roy you can feel the smirk that is pulling at his lips.

Before you could comment on what that could possibly mean Phoebe was calling your name, sticking her hand out with a tiny, paper-wrapped box in her palm. "This one's for you, it says it's from uncle Roy!"

"For me, huh? Lets have a look then, shall we Pheeb's?" Phoebe abandoned her half opened pile of gifts to stand beside you, leaning over the arm of the arm chair and over your shoulder to get a prime look at the gift as you opened it. "Thank you, baby."

Roy pinched your hip teasingly, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he intently watched you carefully unfold the wrapping paper. "Open it first, you might not like it. I kept the receipt so... just say the word and we'll get it changed."

"It's from you, Royo, I'm sure I'll love it." You punctuated your words with a kiss to his lips, not realising just how much your words would ring true until you'd fully unwrapped the box; finding a navy blue, velvet ring box and tears in Ms Kent's eyes. "Roy..."

"I spent 36 years of my life not knowing you felt the same way about me as I felt about you." Roy took the box gently from your hold and opened it, taking the dainty and elegant ring from it and holding it between the two of you. "And I don't plan to waste another moment of my life without you by my side."

"Yes."

"Oi, you're supposed to let me fucking ask you first." A laugh bubbled past your lips despite the tears building in your eyes. "Will you make me the happiest man alive, and marry me?"

"Yes." Your hands found Roy's face before his could place the ring on your finger, pulling him into a hot and forceful kiss, tilting his head back with how much you leaned into it, into him. "Yes. Yes. Yes, please."

"You owe me £1, Uncle Roy."

Tears are shed and the rest of the gifts are opened. Christmas dinner goes by without a hitch, and before you know it the days nearly over and you find yourself in Roy's lap, in his grandads armchair, with one bowl of dessert between the two of you, like so many times before. Ms Kent is sat across from the two of you with her own bowl of dessert and she looks like she wants to say something about it. She doesn't, but only because she knows, and she knows that you and Roy know. This day was a long time coming and she's over the moon that it's come in her lifetime.

Roy's love for you was stronger then any will he had to remain stubborn, and after a life time of waiting, he'd finally found his way to you, and she was sure he would find his way to you in every lifetime; even if it took 100 years or breaking a curse. Like she'd told you on that cool September morning, the prince always comes back, and they always live happily ever after. And she was sure the two of you were going to as well.

an : if you made this this far I love you!!! I hope you enjoyed another super long Roy fic, feel free to leave some feedback or what your favourite part of the story was, or even a request from my summer sleepover prompts!! Mwah <333

#beybaldes writes !!#ted lasso x reader #roy kent one shot #roy kent x reader #roy kent imagine

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forwards-beckon-rebound · 15 days ago

Text

batfam halloween costumes but if they were all weebs

warnings: spoilers for death note i guess? and being late to halloween for a week but i had midterms so what can you do

bruce

oh he likes the old stuff

nothing beyond the 20th century i fear

probably a manga reader

why do i feel like he would really like vagabond (the farming arc is basically his arc with the robins and stuff)

i don’t know if he’d actually dress up as him but i think a musashi cosplay would go crazyyyy

i think he’d appreciate berserk but i feel like vagabond just better aligns with his personal philosophy

but a bruce and selina guts and casca cosplay would go so hard oml

dick

hear me out, gojo

feel like he would go for the uniform at first but then decide to go for his fake toji fic (iykyk) because the uniform wasn’t slutty enough

look me in the eyes and tell me dick does not live by the “In Girl World, Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it…"

jason

this nerd has been watching anime since he was a kid. definitely into the classics, i feel like one of his favourites would be fma

roy mustang cosplay, hello? i think he relates to the trauma

tim

i don’t know how to explain this, but he gives me sad? yaoi vibes

like banana fish or moriarty the patriot so like the ones where they don’t get together in the end

i could totally see him doing matching moriarty and sherlock cosplays

i mean it’s basically him

damian

icl, i don’t know if i see him liking anime, at least at the very beginning

like he’s like what is this childish animated show you are watching?

i want him to dress up as zoro because i think that would be so cute and with the swords and stuff? omg

i feel like he’d like the more thought provoking like mind games type of animes?

gets really into it is like how can’t L figure out light is kira?

why do i see him arguing at the tv when characters say stupid stuff

death note cosplay?

would cosplay as L but if he wasn't stupid and figured out it was light

alfred

i think it would be sooooo funny if he went as sebastian from black butler

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glitter-stained · 5 days ago

Note

Ok sooo don’t know if you’ve ever already been asked this but-

I’m like a sucker for cute baby robin Jason interactions with the Teen titans. In my own wonderful world I like to imagine that Baby Jason had (has) a crush on his older brother’s cool older friends (cough cough Roy).

How do you think that would go? (I’ve thought of these scenarios soooo many times)

Especially when he meets them again when he’s older, and ripped, and ohmygodthosethighs

Just asking Fellow Jason Todd Stan to Fellow Jason Todd Stan :)

Tysm for the ask!

Hmmm

I think the more Titans Jaybin had a baby crush on the cuter it gets.

Dick: so hey Jay how was it what did you think of my team?

Jaybin, who spent way too many hours surrounded by the coolest and prettiest people he's ever seen smiling and talking to him: I think I have arrhythmia.

As for his comeback, I'm gonna be honest I'm very critical of villainous Jason, I think UTH an intelligent, enjoyable story but I personally can't get over its flaws so I'm gonna answer using some AUs of mine, please bear with me. Mostly it's just hard to analyse and make hypothesis about a characterization you disagree with.

Antigonish : that's my personal UTH rewrite where Jason is still a villain/antihero/rogue but the way I'd have written it. In this, Jason (17) looks around 17 years old at most in UTH so he's still not exactly a sexy adult but I don't think the Titans know he's back yet. At the end of Antigonish, Jason leaves Gotham and Dick only finds out from Bruce after he left that Jason's back. So I think the way Dick learns it and passes it on the Titans is "there is a very deeply traumatized highly skilled teenager wandering across the country who needs urgent psychiatric care if lost please return to Batman." I don't know when he first meets the og Titans afterwards (though he maybe meets Roy first since I kinda want him to wind up in Star City for a while, make friends with Mia), but I think there would be that "best friend's undead little brother, handle with care" vibe going on on the Titan's side. On Jason's side, I can see him annoying the fuck out of Mia lmao -"wow your older brother is so handsome I wanna use these biceps as pillows for the rest of my life", "have you seen him with Lian, I wanna bear his children" she would be SO DONE with him

Now in an AU similar to Antigonish, but also closer to canon (aka trying to mash my version of Jason into various dc canons held together with glue to have in character!Roy with an older version of Antigonish!Jason teaming up) which I will call the Jayroy AU as its sole purpose for existence is that I want these people to date, Jason and Roy meet as adults (Jason is 22 and Roy 29). Why did they never meet before? Eh, raising a kid who definitely doesn't get exploded is hard work. Anyway the point is Roy doesn't recognise Jason. Jason is using a pseudonym (probably something stupid like Harper Teal) because of legally dead reasons and just assumes Roy recognised him and followed along, but he looks nothing like the cute little guy who blushed like a tomato every time Roy talked to him. At some point Jason casually mentions the adventure he had with the Titans and Roy goes through several kinds of shock and has to reboot like a computer.

> + bonus lantern AU:

Red Lantern Dick: "hey guys remember my first little brother Jason? He asked if he could get some help on an intergalactic issue."

The titans: "that cute kid? Didn't he die? And why would the second Robin need help with intergalactic threats anyway?"

Jason, thighs and tits on display, in his Star Sapphire uniform, with a machine gun construct under the arm: "Hey guys who wants to help me take down a space wide trafficking ring?"

#ask #i love asks #jayroy #antigonish #batfam lantern au #lantern AU #star sapphire jason todd #jason todd #dc #red hood #dc comics #jaybin #robin ii #teen titans #robin #under the red hood au

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manias-wordcount · 4 months ago

Note

heyy!! ive been feeling kinda down these past few weeks and was wondering if you could make a roy mustang x reader hurt/comfort oneshot (if you're still writing for fma, ofc) that has been depressed for a few months, they're hiding it from him, but it's been getting worse so he starts to notice (?) and also discovers that they've been feeling kinda useless and suicidal... you can continue the rest (wow that was long 😅)

if you don't feel comfortable doing it, it's completely fine :) i really like your writing!!

Suffering in Silence (Roy Mustang x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲'𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘆'𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗿𝗼𝘆 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗹. 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝘂𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗣𝗧𝗦𝗗 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

Now that he’s moved to Central, he’s been busy. And that’s been good for you, as awful as it sounds.

Most nights, you’re curled up in bed before he comes home. Most days you’re just barely stumbling out of your room before he leaves. And you always send him off with a kiss goodbye and the sweetest smile you can muster. You always do. Because you don’t want to make him worry in the rare moments that he sees you. Because you know that will only make him worry in the long moments he’s away. And you don’t want to be a burden. Nobody wants to be a burden. So you keep up appearances on the outside. You smile on the outside/

But tonight, you don’t remember your dream. Though you know it must have been something horrible.

And it’s no surprise either. Your sleep has gotten worse and worse over the months. It’s seeped into your daily life. Melted into the cycle. You toss and turn at night only to wake up feeling more empty and lost and scared and hopeless in the morning. You struggle to get more than a measly couple of hours of rest at a time only for it to show up in the way you walk and talk and carry yourself. It’s like you were bitten by something that depleted all of your energy and your self-worth. Even now, you feel it sinking its teeth into the remains of your facade. The very thing you’ve kept up for the past few months to ensure that no one was worried or felt burdened by your sinking feelings of despair. But tonight, you found that you don’t remember your dream. But you know for a fact that it must have been something horrible.

Otherwise, Roy wouldn’t have ripped you from your sleep and held you to his chest like you would disappear if he loosened his grip.

The old you would have been so confused. The old you would have wondered if that alarmed look in his eyes and the shaking you awake was the result of a particularly bad PTSD panic attack. The old you would have held him back, feeling helpless to do anything except utter sweet nothings about how he’s at home with you- far, far away from anyway. He’s been doing well over the years, but you know he hasn’t been one hundred percent since the war. But that’s what the old you would have thought. That’s what the old you would have said and done. But that’s not you right now. It’s not.

Because the you right now is just curling up in his lap as he pulls you impossibly closer. Because the you right now is crying and clutching at his uniform, while your mind can’t help but wonder where everything went wrong.

“ You need to tell me what’s wrong,” He murmurs to you, lips just by your ear. You shiver as his breath passes as it, and squirm as the metal pins and buttons of his uniform dig into your skin. Even still, he doesn’t let go of you. He doesn’t relent with you. He just takes off his gloves and wipes at your tears. He doesn’t complain when they fall on a heap by his feet. He doesn’t complain when the stray tears that he missed press against his neck and roll down without fault. He just holds you. Just like you used to hold him. “You were crying in your sleep, sweetheart. You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

At that, you shake your head. You’ve had dreams that led you to cry in your sleep before. Waking up with wet stains on your pillow wasn’t an uncommon thing for you. Not completely, at least. But you didn’t want to let him know that. You couldn’t let him know that. It’s bad enough that the first thing he came home to tonight after a long day at work was the sight of you sobbing in your sleep. But to let me him know more? To let him in after you so desperately tried to keep him away after all this? You just couldn’t stomach the thought. So you did the only thing you could do.

You denied it.

“ N-nightmare- ” You stammer out, sniffling in between the words. But Roy isn’t stupid. He’s been around the sun with you in his life for long enough to know that what you said isn’t everything. And because he’s Roy- because he’s your Roy, he’s quick to point that out too.

“That’s not what this really is about, is it?” He bites out harshly- voice barely above a whisper. His tone makes the tears fall a little bit faster, but the hand curling around your waste and drawing small patterns into your night shirt does offer some semblance of comfort.

Because his hands are warm. Because His body is warm. Because it reminds you of the sun. It reminds you of all the day you met him. Of all things sweet and comforting. Of times when you could sleep and dream without crying. It reminds you of when things were better. When you were happier. When something wasn’t digging into your soul and taking everything for itself with no way to stop the slow, slow, leak that plagued you. “There’s something more. I know there is.”

You shake your head at his words. You aren’t ready to speak yet. You don’t trust your voice. You don’t trust your words. You don’t trust your mind or your heart. Hell, you don’t even trust the fact that you seemingly and randomly spiraled into a depression far greater than the man who literally acted as an attack dog for a civil war. It’s not fair to Roy. But the world was never fair to anyone, now was it?

You hear him sigh when you shake your head, but you don’t offer any more words for the time being. So he doesn’t either. Instead, his grip on your body relaxes and he places you back on the bed before moving away. Your vision is blurred with tears as you watch him stand up from where he was sitting on the edge with you. Out of the corner of your eyes, you spied the time on the clock from across the room. It tells you that it’s nearly two in the morning. And that information makes you feel a pang of guilt so hard you can’t help but suck in a deep breath as even more tears threaten to flow.

But Roy was having none of that.

He was quick to hush you- a hand reaching out to wipe at your cheeks once more with the type of gentleness you know only you get to see. With his other hand, you see him working through his uniform. Taking off his overcoat and pulling off his boots all to leave them in a messy pile by the floor. You tried to say something- tried to warn him that he’ll only regret this decision when it comes time to wash and press this particular overcoat again. Or that he’s forgetting all his training as a soldier and to never disrespect the uniform. But your voice cracks before you can get more than a sound out. And your lips quivered before you could move them into the shapes that you wanted to.

And he’s back in front of you. Pushing you to lay down on the bed as he crawls in right after you, and holds you to his body once more. He tucks your head into his neck. He circles his arms around your waist. He peppers your face with little tiny kisses everywhere. On your nose. On your forehead. Your cheeks. Your eyelids. Your everything. He holds you.

So you hold him back.

Seconds pass. Minutes pass. Hours pass. How many? How long? You don’t know. All you know is that he’s holding you now. And that you’re holding him. Your legs are tangled in between his. At at some point, your fingers found their way into his dark hair. Threading through his locks and running the tips of your nails against his scalp in a way that you think is probably more comforting for you than it is for him. And for the first time, in a long, long while, you feel grounded to this world. Not perfect. Not great. Not even good. But you feel better. He makes you feel better.

He makes you feel.

He makes you feel something that isn’t emptiness. Something that isn’t fear. Something that isn’t sadness. Something that isn’t complete and utter despair. Something that isn’t the persisting loneliness that appears when you are and are not alone. Something that doesn’t threaten to consume you. Take you away from yourself. Take you away from your world. Your happiness. He makes you feel better. Not perfect, but better. And right now, that’s all you can ask for.

“ I’m losing you, aren’t I ?” He says at some point throughout the night. You don’t know how he figured it out so easily. You thought you had been hiding it so well. But when you heard the low, almost defeated rumble of words, you knew you couldn't hide it anymore. Because it was the type of sound that shoots straight to your heart. And he’s the type of man who won't stop until he sees things through- until he finds the truth. “ I’m losing you. ”

You try to shake your head again, although you know it’s futile. But instead of calling you out for withholding the truth for the umpteenth time tonight, Roy just sighs a deep sigh and leans in real close to press his lips against your nose once more. You can’t help the soft laugh that managed to bubble up inside you at the small, comforting actions. Nor could you help the slow smile that started to spread as he closed his eyes and brushed his nose against yours.

“ You have to tell me when you feel this way .” He tells you, and you already know you have no room for argument when the hands around your waist squeeze you in a way that ensures to both of you that you won’t be slipping away from him anytime soon. But to be honest, you’ve already started drifting off. Starting feeling soft and safe and protected. So much so that you can’t imagine trying to break free from his arms. How could you do that to him? How could you do that to yourself? “ I can’t lose you, do you understand ?”

The truth is, you don’t know. You don’t know when you decided that suffering in silence was the right way to go about this. You don’t know when you decided you wanted to stop seeking him out for yourself and only for appearances.

You don’t know when you forgot that to have and to hold and to love and love harder aren’t just things you say because they felt right in the moment. But rather they are things you say because you meant every word and every feeling and every bit of happiness they brought on.

But he hasn’t forgotten.

“ I won’t lose you. Not to anyone. ”

Not now, not ever.

“ And certainly, not to yourself. ”

Not even a little bit.

63 notes · View notes

yourfavoritewitchbitch · 7 months ago

Text

Badge Bunny Part V

Masterlist Here!

Summary: It all comes to a head with Roy. Will Gator let the sins off his past dictate his future or will he be the better man that he knows you deserve?

18+ Only! Minors DNI!

CW: Reader is referred to as "Bunny" or "Bun". Minimal use of Y/N. Canon type violence. Gun use. Gator is wounded - no graphic detail. Mild angst. Smut! Unprotected P in V. Creampie.

WC: 8.7K

“Something's going down at the ranch. I think Roy's finally lost his goddamn mind. Feds are headed over there.” Andy rushed out, breathless as if he'd run all the way here, face a little bloodied and bruised. He was still in uniform, though it was dirty and disheveled, sans his duty belt.

“Gator?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

He nodded, gaze falling to the floor.

“He's been there all morning.”

“What's going on? And don't lie to me Andy.” Pushing your finger roughly into his chest.

“I want the full story. Not some half-truth bullshit.” Tired of sitting in the dark, you needed some answers.

You took him to the back so you could talk in private without the whole bar hearing about the sorted affair. They would all know soon enough. Small town gossip spreads like wildfire, especially if it involves the Tillman family in any way.

Roy had the entire ranch on lockdown. He'd somehow gotten wind of a traitor in his midst that was feeding information to the FBI.

Andy was an immediate suspect. After the entire incident with your kidnapping and sending those blood samples off despite Roy telling him not to, it had earned him a spot at the top of the man's shit list.

“They had me tied up in one of the sheds. If it weren't for Gator, I…” he swallowed thickly, as if he were reliving it all once again. “I don't know what Roy would have done. He showed me some tunnel on the back of the property. Helped me escape. I flagged down a car once I made it to the main road and had them bring me here.”

“Oh my God, Andy! Why didn't he come with you? What the fuck is he doing?” You groaned, swearing then and there if he made it out of this shit alive you were going to kill him.

“He told me to place a call to the feds and made me promise to make sure you stayed put. There's nothing else we can do.”

You stopped pacing back and forth looking at him with a dumbstruck expression.

“What? So, you are working with them?” Trying to wrap your head around everything that he was trying to tell you.

“No, Y/N. Gator is!”

Not even Roy could have seen it coming. Everyone pegged Gator as the Sheriff's idiot son. A fuck up so blinded by getting his father's approval that no one thought for a second he could have been the informant.

If Roy asked him to jump, he'd ask him how high but that all started to change a little over a year prior.

There was only one thing that would make him flip on the old man in a heartbeat.

You.

He'd asked you to trust him. Told you whatever happened it was for the best. Now you truly saw why. He was taking Roy down. It was his way out.

“Andy, how am I supposed to stay put when you know what Roy is capable of? If he even thinks for a second that it's Gator…” You trailed off. Taking a seat at the edge of Henry's desk to let the weight of it all sink in.

“I think he's got this. There's nothing else for Roy to do but surrender.” He tried to reassure you with a half-smile but you saw right through it.

You sighed, standing back up.

“Let me clean that cut up for you. It's the least I can do. You're a good friend to me and Gator.” You grabbed the first aid kit and went to work. It was deeper than you thought, probably needed a stitch or two but he was dead set on keeping the both of you here.

After Gator helped Andy find the underground passage, he made his way back to the main house where he knew Roy would be waiting.

He took a deep breath before entering. Knowing his part, he has to play it cool just until the feds get there. He gave Andy strict instructions to let them know what they were going to be up against.

The kitchen was left in shambles. Roy told Karen and the girls to leave before they finished breakfast. At least he seemed to care enough to spare them from some of what he had planned that day.

From that point on it had been madness. He'd called in what was essentially his calvary. A lot of armed idiots that had no business holding a gun.

Somehow, he'd gotten word the FBI was coming to raid him. Gator was still unsure of where it actually came from, but he knew Roy had friends in high places.

He wandered down the small hall that led to the back of the house where Roy's office was, the door sitting ajar.

He didn't bother knocking, pushing it further open and taking a step forward. Roy's eyes shot up as soon as the door opened.

“Gator, what are you doing here? I told you to watch the goddamn shed with Bowman.” He hissed out.

“Yeah, uh… Andy and Bowman are both gone. Shed's empty.” His gaze fell to the floor briefly before looking back to Roy.

“Gone? Both of them?” His face flashing confusion.

“Yup. Suppose Bowman moved him? Ya’ give him the order to execute or somethin’?” He asked, trying to draw his suspicion.

“Fuck.” He gritted out between clenched teeth getting up and coming around his desk. “I didn't give any kind of order. Get your ass out there. Tell everyone to start looking for them.”

“Yeah, course.” Gator turned, making his way back down the hall and out to the porch telling the rest of the guys to start looking.

He was sure it had given Andy enough time to get to the highway. No one knew about that escape hatch except himself, Roy and the other being Bowman, who was currently unconscious and tied up in said escape tunnel.

He set about pretending to help look for the two missing men hearing the sirens in the distance, breathing a small sigh of relief. It would all be over soon.

As Roy stepped out onto the porch, pulling his hat down tight upon his head the caravan of black SUVs made their way down the highway stopping at the front gate.

He had the entrance blocked by his armed cohorts.

��Well, here we go.” He said, looking over to Gator with a sinister smirk.

“Dad,” he said, sounding more like a frightened boy than the man he was trying to be, as Roy turned back to look at him. “No one has to get hurt. Ya’ could just… just give yourself up.”

“Give myself up? You do realize you're going to prison too, right? It's not just me going down at the end of all this.” He fixed him with a glare before turning and mounting his mare. “Shut the hell up and find those two idiots.”

He nodded, biting his lip as he watched him mosey toward them, taking a leisurely pace as if he was unbothered by the entire scene. Roy seemed to see it as more of a nuisance than any kind of real threat.

He couldn't tell what was being said, so he made himself scarce trying to bide his time.

The feds already had a plan in motion. Gator told them about the hatch and tunnels that would lead them to the back of the property. It would be easy access and they could take everyone from behind while they were still occupied with the front gates. They knew once they had Roy the rest would give up without their so-called fearless leader.

Gator made his way to the back of the property, meeting about 10 men dressed in SWAT gear along with FBI Agent Joaquin.

“He's in his office, but ugh… y’guys mind if I have a word with him before ya’ barge in there?” He asked.

“I think we can spare a few minutes. I can give you head start but if bullets start flying, hit the deck.” He waved Gator off turning back toward his team ready to give their orders.

He made his way back to the house, hitting his vape trying to steel his nerves.

This time the door was shut, so he quickly rapped his knuckles against the smooth wood.

“Yeah?” Roy grunted, as Gator popped into view.

“Son, what the hell is it this time?” He was exasperated dealing with him for the day.

“I need to talk to you. Man to man.” He stated, coming to stand in front of his desk. Roy finally looked from the window to face him.

“Well, spit it out.” He hissed.

“The feds are on their way, already on the ranch. Thought it would be better to hear it from me.” Roy watched him intently but stayed silent letting him continue.

“If you had just left her alone.” He looked him dead in the eye as he spoke. “You tried to take away the one thing that matters most to me.”

Roy had gravely miscalculated just how much you'd meant to his son. He saw you as nothing more than a bump in the road assuming that Gator would eventually get bored of his new, shiny plaything.

He was losing that grip on him little by little thinking his only way to get it back was to get rid of you.

The kidnapping had gone according to plan, just like Roy intended, until it didn't. Those idiots he'd hired had gotten greedy. Threatened to let you go if they didn't get more money but before he could take matters into his own hands Gator had found you.

The FBI had reached out months prior, it was only after that stunt that he finally placed the call that set everything into motion.

“So, that's it then? Turn your own father in over what? Some fuckin' whore. I should have fuckin’ killed you a long time ago. You're nothing but a sniveling worm. I'm ashamed to even call you my son.” He was seeing red, reaching for his gun.

Gator grabbed his own, before Roy had the chance to flinch. His words had no effect on him. He'd all but given up hope of ever winning his father's affections and praise. He didn't care anymore. He had you.

“Don't.” He aimed right at Roy's chest, finger on the trigger. He never wanted it to end this way.

Shouting down the hall pulled Gator's attention for a split second, as his eyes drifted from their target giving Roy enough time to get his hand around his own pistol.

Two shots rang out as the swat team swarmed the house.

“So, what should we do? How much longer do we just sit and wait?” You'd finally asked after thirty more agonizing minutes. You'd both made it back out to the bar, taking a booth in the corner.

Your knee was bouncing, unable to keep from chewing your nails and looking out the window every few seconds.

“He wants you to stay put. So, we'll stay put.” Taking another sip of his soda, watching you over the glass. “Don't even think about it.”

“What? I wasn't thinking about anything.” The way you glanced at your keys sitting next to you told him otherwise.

“Y/N.” He warned, with a glare.

“Fuck, fine.” You crossed your arms, continuing to look out the window with a huff. “I'm going to get a drink. You want a refill?” Asking as you got up.

You had your back toward the door when an SUV peeled into the parking lot. A woman with short, dark hair got out and made her way into the door.

“I'm looking for a Miss Y/L/N.” She announced, looking around the near desolate place as she removed her sunglasses.

You whipped around.

“Um, that's me.” Voice coming out meek. You knew she had to be FBI. You suddenly felt sick, preparing for the worst.

“I'm Agent Meyers. We need you to come with us please.” Her curt tone left no room for arguing as your eyes cut over to Andy. He got up and met you both.

“I'm Deputy Andy Tate. I'm the one that called you guys. You mind if I tag along?” He didn't want to let you out of his sight, even if they were supposed to be the good guys.

She looked him up and down before nodding.

“Sure, follow me.”

Agent Meyers wasn't much for small talk. She had explained you were needed but didn't go into detail. Apparently, it was a need-to-know basis, and you didn't need to know.

Your stomach was in knots as you watched the world pass by outside. Andy tried to soothe you, telling you it would all be okay, but every doubt was swirling within you.

As you pulled up to that familiar gate and picture-perfect farmhouse that was anything but, you saw they had people lined up and handcuffed on their knees against the fence.

They'd managed to round up and arrest everyone. As predicted, when they found out Roy was done, they all gave up without a fight.

There were two ambulances, one pulling off as you all pulled in the other parked directly in front of the house.

“Where is he?” You anxiously asked.

“He'll be over there.” You opened the door and shot out running before they had the chance to come to a stop.

“Hey!” Meyers yelled, but you didn't hesitate. You needed to see him. Needed to make sure he was okay, and your worst thoughts had not come to fruition; make it all tangible.

He finally came into view, sitting on a gurney at the back of the vehicle. His shirt was removed. They were bandaging up his shoulder as you shouted his name.

He turned, standing up as you slammed into his chest wrapping your arms around him as the tears began to flow.

He groaned with the impact, pain shooting through his shoulder and back, but he didn't care, wrapping his arm tight around you pulling you into him.

Roy had managed to shoot him in the left shoulder, while Gator's aim had been much more accurate. A shot straight into the gut. He'd been taken by the other ambulance for emergency surgery and then he'll be swept off straight to a federal prison halfway across the country.

“Gator… I …” You sniffed, looking up at him. “I thought…” Your hands roamed his chest, easing over his bandaged shoulder taking it all in. Cupping his cheeks, your thumb running under a slight bruise that was blooming under his eye.

He pressed your head back to his chest, kissing your temple.

“It's okay baby. I'm okay. We're okay.” His words soothing as they washed over you.

You just held each other for a few more minutes before someone cleared their throat from behind you.

“Sorry to break this little moment up but it's time to go.” Agent Meyers spoke.

Gator nodded, as you looked between the two of them.

“Bunny, look at me.” His eyes pierced yours as he spoke calmly.

“We’re going to be okay. But I have to go with them. There's a lot of shit I did, that I'm not proud of I still need to answer for.”

You knew what he meant. For all the good he did, there were still things he would have to pay for which still meant prison time.

“I'm proud of you.” You looked right into those soft, hazel eyes as you spoke. He looked so downtrodden, but you lifted his chin.

“I'm so proud of you baby!” You stood on the tips of your toes, smashing your lips to his. They were a little chapped but warm as you melted into him.

It suddenly crossed your mind this may be the last time you get to feel him for a while as his tongue grazes your bottom lip. Allowing him entry, you glide against one another so effortlessly it was easy to get lost in the moment.

You broke apart only to catch your breath. Whispered “I love yous” were spoken before he was handcuffed in front of you.

“Okay, Mr. Tillman.” Agent Meyers guided him to an SUV, sitting him in the back.

His eyes were filled with worry as they shut the door, mirroring your own. Andy sidled up beside you as they drove out of sight.

5 Months Later

“You don't have to keep coming every week.” The way it came out let you know he was tired but so were you. Tired of him acting like you were just going to give up and leave him to rot in a prison cell.

Since he'd helped the feds, they had given him a nice plea deal with a reduced sentence of 18 months. With good behavior, he might be out in 12.

It was the best he could have hoped for with all the involvement in Roy's dealings, but Gator had given them enough to send him away for the rest of his life.

It was still going to be agonizing but you wanted to be there for him every step of the way.

“Yes, I do. Who else is going to bring you these nasty cookies you love?” You teased. Packing another overnight bag for your 8-hour trek.

“Y’gonna make me fat, if ya keep bringin’ those.” He chuckles on the other end. “But seriously, if the drives gettin' to be too much, ya’ don't have to.”

“I don't have anything else to do. I know that sounds pathetic but it's true. All I do is work, and then come home. The only thing that's getting to be too much is how quiet the house is. I miss you.” You said it earnestly, sighing into the phone sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I'm sorry Bunny, if there had been another way…” he trailed off, sighing on his end as well.

“No. Don't start that. I am so damn proud of you, Gator Tillman!”

Of course, it was all over the front pages, but they left out the part where he had been an informant. Everyone assumed the very worst about him, just like Roy. But he was your hero.

If only you could see the grin that split his face any time you told him that. The way his eyes lit up. He had sought Roy's approval for so long, it felt refreshing to hear that he'd done something right from the one person who truly loves him for him. All the fuck ups, all the short comings he saw in himself that you never judged him for. You loved him. You were proud of him.

“I love you, be safe. I'll see ya’ tomorrow.” He had his one-minute warning come through the line.

“Ok baby. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you more!”

“Not possible.” He grinned again, as the line clicked dead.

He'd been sent to FCI Sandstone, a low security facility in Minnesota. It was a little over 8 hours from Lehigh. Thankfully Roy was sent halfway across the country to a maximum security facility so neither of you would ever have to cross his path again.

In the few months that he's been away, it's been a struggle. You were left on your own again, but you could breathe a sigh of relief. The entire town felt like a weight had been lifted. No one was looking over their shoulder fearing they might be on the bad side of Roy Tillman.

Andy was appointed interim Sheriff, since half the department went down with the raid. Andy and just a few others were left to pick up the pieces and start from scratch.

He was a good man. Gator made sure that he was never implemented in anything to do with Roy or himself. He was doing a great job, weeding out the few left behind and hiring new, upstanding deputies to help run things. There was no doubt he'd be running and win the upcoming election.

You had your routine down, leaving out every Tuesday afternoon after your shift. Hitting up the same motel halfway there. Waking up before dawn to go the rest of the way. Spending Wednesdays with him at the prison.

They'd give you one-hour allotments of visiting time. You'd been his only visitor.

You drive through the gates, flashing your smile and waving at the guards. They knew you by name at this point.

“Hey Bill!” You greeted the guard at the entrance.

“Hey, Y/N. Must be Wednesday.” He chuckled, waving you through the X-ray. You knew the routine. Tossing everything into the bin to go through, then yourself. Pat down examination and you were off to the designated visiting area.

You'd always sit at the table closest to the window, furthest away from the guards. It was quiet. No one bothered the two of you.

You sat the cookies in front of you. The one thing you had actually taken the time to learn how to make and you'd gotten good at it. He loved them.

You were staring out the window, when the buzzer went off alerting you to the door being opened.

He walked out, hands cuffed in front of him wearing that prison issued bright orange jumpsuit you were now so accustomed to seeing. His hair was never slicked back anymore, but he kept the cut the same. Soft brown locks hung down against his forehead.

He donned that crooked smile that made your heart melt as he made his way over to you.

“Hi baby.” He sat across from you extending his hands as the guard unlatched the cuffs. He rubbed his wrists before placing his hands to the table.

“Brought your favorite.” Shaking the Tupperware in front of you, then sliding it over.

They allowed some touching in the visitor's area but not enough. You longed to push the hair from his face and kiss those lips you've missed.

He took the lid off and immediately dove in, taking a cookie and humming around the sugary taste.

“I think these get better every time, Bun.” Finishing it before looking back at you, a crumb at the edge of his lip. You reached up, and brushed it away with your thumb, lingering just a moment.

“God, I miss you.” You whispered, dropping your hand as he reached across the table intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I'm right here, and hey, if I stay off the naughty list I get conjugal visits next month.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively making you laugh and roll your eyes fondly.

“As much as I would love for you to fuck me senseless, you know that's not what I mean.”

“I know, baby.” The grip on your hand becoming a little tighter.

You fell into an easy conversation. You always told him about what was happening since he left.

“Spoke with Andy. They're expecting and he's absolutely over the moon. They're still planning on getting married, but they're going to wait until after the baby.”

You were still talking but he was hung up on that first part. He felt like a failure all over again. That could be you and him. Happy. Engaged, maybe even married. But no. He was stuck here because of all the stupid choices he had made long before he'd met you. He knew he didn't deserve you.

You stopped talking when you noticed his crestfallen appearance. Eyes glossy, and pouty lips.

“Hey, what's wrong?” You shook his hand lightly. “I know that look. Don't.”

“It's just…” he began but you cut him off. He got like this from time to time.

“I know what you're thinking. Stop, ok. We'll get our happy ending once you get out of this place.” You smiled.

A happy ending. What you truly wouldn't give. You'd both been through too much to not see this through.

“Plus, I'm moving closer. I can get another job, another place to live. We don't have to go back to Lehigh. Nothing ties us to that place.”

“Bunny,” his gaze softened. He truly didn't deserve you.

“Nope. I know what you're going to say. I've already made up my mind.”

“Fine, just make sure to clean out the house good before you do. Attic too.” You looked at him with confusion, knowing you had never stored anything up there.

He simply smirked and winked at you.

“Um… ok weirdo. If you say so.” You eyed him warily. “I…”

“Tillman, times up!” The guard shouted, interrupting you.

“I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you got in, sweet thing.” He said, winking before his hands were cuffed once more.

You watched as the guard led him away. It was always inevitable, but it didn't hurt any less each time.

It scratched at the back of your mind on the drive home. He was so adamant about checking the attic. It was going to bug you the entire way.

This time you wouldn't stop halfway to rest. Making the drive back to Lehigh in one go, making a few gas station runs but nothing more.

You got in late that night, feeling dead on your feet as you walked into the house throwing your bag on the couch making a beeline for the hall where the access to the attic through the ceiling lay.

You reached up, straining, barely grabbing the thin string but you were able to pull it down as it fell open with a creak.

You took the rickety steps one at a time, grabbing your phone to use as a flashlight. Your head popped up looking around but not immediately seeing anything. To your right, there was a duffle bag you didn't recognize but this must be what he was alluding to.

Your hand gripped the handle, it was fairly heavy, as you brought it back down slowly, placing it on the kitchen table.

Taking a deep breath, you tugged the zipper, gasping when the contents were finally revealed.

The bag was full of cash. More than you'd ever seen at one time in your life.

What you hadn't known is that Gator found that bag when he had rescued you, immediately recognizing it because it was the same one, he had seen at Roy's a few days before it all went down.

That was his turning point. The final nail in the coffin. If Roy could do this to you, there was really nothing he wasn't capable of.

The feds had been whispering in his ear for a few months. After you had broken it off that morning, that was his first call. Even if the future with you was uncertain, he had to keep you safe and taking Roy down was his only choice.

As the initial shock wore off you noticed an envelope sitting to the side.

You tore it open immediately to find a handwritten note.

Bunny,

I figured sooner or later you'd find this before I got out. Knowing you, you're ready to high tail it out of Lehigh and I don't blame you.

Get out of Lehigh, you deserve better than this. Better than me. I never understood why you stuck around, you're too good for me.

On the off chance you still love me, there's enough to get you by until I get out, if you want to wait for me. I understand if you don't. I'm writing this knowing what lays ahead of me.

I know you're going to be pissed, but I did it for us. For our future, if you'll have me. I know I should have done it sooner, and I'm kicking myself for writing it in a letter instead.

There's a velvet box hidden in my sock drawer, if you haven't found it already. I promise I'll ask you proper once I get out. I love you Y/N, more than anything.

Love, Gator

PS- Got your necklace fixed. Missed seeing it around your neck.

Tears began to stream down your face as you clutched the letter reading it over once more before your feet started carrying you toward the bedroom you once shared with him.

You hadn't touched any of his things since he'd been gone. So, you'd never happened upon the small velvet box he was referring to.

You shoved his socks out of he way until your fingertips brushed up against it. You hesitantly pulled it into view, holding it in your hand until you sat on the bed.

You were still crying as you lifted the edges. Your necklace slipped out, catching it before it hit your lap. It had been broken during the kidnapping but with everything that had gone on since you hadn't thought about it but were now grateful to see it again.

Your eyes roved over the ring that was held within. It was simple, modest by most standards, but it was perfect. You'd never expected this from him.

It was a thin, gold band with three diamonds. A center cut with two smaller ones flanking each side. You hesitantly lifted it from the box, sliding it down your ring finger and holding it up to examine it more closely, as it caught the light and sparkled with your movement.

Finally, you clasped the thin gold chain back around your neck, holding the delicate “G” between your fingertips once more.

You knew he'd be calling around noon the next day, expecting you to have stayed at the hotel overnight. You had an idea, not letting on that you'd found everything laid out for you, instead surprising him on your next visit.

It was bittersweet, packing up your things and getting ready to leave Lehigh. The first home you shared with someone you truly loved.

Since you'd let him know you were moving to Minnesota to be closer to him, it had been a whirlwind of emotions and planning. Your next weekly visit was tomorrow.

In a week's time you had already found a small apartment for rent not far from the prison that would be perfect until he was released so you started the packing process.

During your calls, you'd never let on about the duffle bag. He couldn't say anything, so there was no way he'd mention it over the phone which played to your advantage. Keep him waiting and wondering.

Today when you walked through the gates you were positively giddy. Not only were you surprising him, but this would be your first conjugal visit.

Unlike before, they led you to a small room in the back of the prison. It provided privacy with a small bed and seating area, a counter dividing the room in two.

You were instructed to sit. They'd bring him in.

Your knee was bouncing with anticipation at the thought of finally being able to touch him after 6 long months of waiting.

The feel of running your fingers through his hair, his arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace, vibrating at the thought.

You moved the container of cookies to the small table in front of you as the door swung open.

Gator stepped in, a wide grin splitting his face, as he walked further into the room. His eyes never left you, licking his lips as he turned his body toward the guard so they could unshackle him.

“Alright Tillman, you've got an hour. Just be dressed by the time I get back.” He nodded, “ma’am” leaving the two of you alone.

“Hey, sweet thing!” He rubbed his wrists, watching you ease up from your seat crossing the room, quickly advancing toward him, barely giving him enough time to move his hands out of the way before you pummeled into his chest throwing your arms around his waist pulling him into a bone crushing hug.

“Damn Bun! Miss me that bad?” Letting a small chuckle escape, circling his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

“You know I miss you!” Melting further into his chest. The fabric of his worn, orange jumpsuit scratched at your face, but you just buried it deeper, breathing him.

You held each other for a few moments before finally lifting your head. As your eyes met, he moved his warm, calloused palm to your cheek before he moved in letting his lips crash to yours, nose pressing into your cheek as he tilted his head pulling you further into him.

He immediately deepened it, hungry for more. His tongue darts out, licking at your lower lip as you part your mouth for him. You hummed at the taste of him, almost making you weak in the knees and rushing a spark to your core.

You finally broke apart, panting as your foreheads came to rest together.

“It would have been a yes, you know.” You whispered. “You should have just asked a long time ago.”

His brows knit with confusion as he pulled away to look down at you, his eye catching the glint of gold around your neck immediately cluing him in to what you meant as his gaze softened, and a lopsided grin returned to his face.

“Yeah? That so?” He reached for your left hand, pulling it into view. The ring was situated on your hand perfectly. “So, you still want to be with me?”

“Of course I want to be with you! I love you, you idiot! And you absolutely are asking me properly once you get out of here!” You giggled as he lifted you excitedly, peppering kisses all over your face as you tried to squirm away from the sudden onslaught of affection.

“So, does that mean I'm fuckin' my fiancé today?” Setting your feet back on the ground.

“God, is that all you're worried about?” Rolling your eyes, slapping at his chest.

“No. But Bun, I'm dyin’ here. It's been six fuckin' months.” He suddenly pressed his hips into you, his already hard length pushing into your lower stomach.

“Sure you haven't fallen for your burly bunkmate? I know it can get really lonely in here.” You laughed, as he groaned.

“Real cute, Bunny.” He was walking you back as he spoke, suddenly lifting you up on the small counter stepping between your legs and crashing his lips to yours once more.

The kiss turned more heated as you both tilted your heads, melting into each other as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him further into you by the collar.

He began to trail lower, kisses to your jaw to that little spot below your ear that has you releasing a breathy moan that instantly has his cock twitching between you.

“Oh fuck, I've missed those sounds.” He hissed out, helping you shed your jacket letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor reattaching his lips to you, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down the side of your neck.

Your fingers trailed up his chest finding the zipper on the orange jumpsuit you've come to loath, slipping it down as he let you pull it from his shoulders, letting it fall open to his waist. He wore a plain white shirt underneath, fisting the material in your hands as he pulled your hips closer to the edge of the counter.

His hands drifted under the fabric of your top, sending goosebumps across your flesh, as they roamed higher. Raising your arms to let him discard it alongside your jacket.

He's quick to drift to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with ease, letting the fabric fall away from your chest as his large palms engulf your soft flesh, kneading it a little roughly only spurring that now prominent ache between your legs when his thumbs graze over your nipples causing your back to arch further into his touch.

“Oh fuck, baby!” You moan out, gripping the bottom of his shirt trying to pull it up. You were needy. It felt like a lifetime since you'd been able to give him so much affection. Feel his warmth, skin to skin, lips skimming over your soft flesh. Reacquainting with each other's bodies.

Once his shirt was discarded, his hands traced your curves sending a shiver through you.

Your eyes caught the scar on his shoulder that hadn't been there before. A harsh reminder of what he's had to go through.

He follows your eyes, as your fingertips trace over the bit of gnarled, dark flesh.

“I would take a million more as long as I knew you were safe.” Whispering between you.

“I know you would. I just wish you didn't have to. I love you.” Whispering back, moving forward to place a kiss there before placing another to his lips that quickly turned heated once again.

You pushed at the jumpsuit, he helped you discard it and toe off his shoes as you worked quickly on your jeans.

Once his attention came back to you, he helped you lift your hips and slide them down your legs. His hands were immediately back to you, roaming any of your exposed flesh he could reach.

He took a moment, pressing his lips to your forehead, hand to your jaw.

“I've missed you so fuckin’ much Bunny. I love you.” Leaning his forehead to yours, closing your eyes, feeling the warmth of his palm to your cheek.

“I've missed you too.” Whispering as he captured your lips once more, less rushed. His lips glide across yours, tongue ghosting along your bottom lip begging for entry as you parted them. Tongues moving against one another in a slow, passionate dance.

He closed the small gap, as you wrapped your legs back around him. His clothed length pressing into your core as your hips seemed to move on their own accord grinding down against him, catching your clit on the downward movement eliciting breathy moans from both of you.

His hand slips between you, finding the damp spot on your panties, pressing the pad of his thumb into the soaked fabric.

“Bunny, you're so wet. All this f’me? Fuck, I'm a lucky bastard.” He hissed out, finding the edge of your underwear pulling them to the side and letting his fingertip trace your slit before pushing at your aching entrance only breaching slightly, making your hips chase his hand for friction. He trailed up, finding your swollen clit as the pad of his thumb swiped deftly before pulling away. The band of your panties snapping back into place.

“You wanna move… this over t’the… bed?” He rushed out between pants and feverish kisses.

“Please.” You manage to get out before he's gripping your ass, hauling you up and over across the small room without his mouth ever leaving yours.

His knees find the small bed and tosses you down. The springs are a little hard and unforgiving squeaking under your weight with a small bounce that makes you giggle all the same as you lean back to stare up at him.

He's long and lean, looking a little more toned than you remember. Boxers doing nothing to hide his raging erection. His hard cock straining against the fabric, now eye level with you.

You reach up, tracing a finger down the length of him, leaving him gaping and throwing his head back.

“Fuck, I need you.” He hisses out, as you gingerly reach up pulling his boxers down his toned legs, finally releasing him. His length bobs against his abdomen, standing at full attention. Your cunt clinches at the thought of getting him inside of you. Never satiated properly for the last six months you were aching.

He didn't miss the way your thighs rubbed together as he looked down at you, as you took him in your hand, bringing your lips to his soft, ruddy tip, placing a soft kiss there before shifting your head as you ran your tongue up his entire length.

“Oh fuck, baby.” He pulled your chin up to look at him, as you smirked. “Hey sweet thing, as much as I would love to have your mouth, I need your pussy.” The end came out as almost a growl as he began to ease you back onto the bed, his fingertips grabbing at your panties as he practically ripped them from your legs as you heard an audible rip but you didn't mind as he tossed them somewhere across the room.

Crawling between your thighs, parting to accommodate him eagerly. His thick chest hair rough against your nipples, as he presses himself to you taking his length at the base, suddenly running it up your soaked folds making you moan out and arch further closing any gap between you.

“That's it baby. Need it as much as I do, huh?” He hummed, bumping your clit on the way up that made you whine as he captured your lips once more, lining himself up as his head catches your dripping hole.

Your hands grip at his back, running your fingers through the short locks at the nape of his neck pulling the strands when he pushes himself in an inch more.

The toys at home could never fill you the way he could with his thick, long cock. It began to sting as he pushed further. A moan caught in your throat, as your head hit the back of the bed, mouth going slack at the feeling.

“Goddamn, Bunny. You're so… mmmph…. Fuckin' tight.” He grits out, face turning soft once he looks up to notice your brows pinched tight.

“Hey, Bunny. Relax f'me, baby.” He coos, cradling your jaw, thumb rubbing soothingly under your bottom lip.

“I'm relaxed, you're just a lot, baby.” You finally say, opening your eyes gazing into his lust blown irises, nearly black save for the thin mossy ring around the outer edge.

“Yeah?” Lopsided grin returning. “Too much for that tight little cunt?” Not letting you answer before finally burying himself completely as your nails dig into his back with a near pornographic moan escaping your lips only spurring him on.

He slowly pulls out, feeling your walls stretch and flutter around him before quickly plunging back in, feeling impossibly deeper before rocking his hips into yours at a brutal pace.

The stretch and sting slowly subsides giving way to pleasure as he pushes in and out, a fresh wave of arousal soaking you both. You can't suppress the filthy moans falling past your lips.

“That's it baby, let them know how good I'm fuckin' MY pussy. Ya’ don't have to be quiet in here.” He continues roughly pushing his hips into yours as you gasp and writhe beneath him. The sounds of your slick as he drives into with each thrust would have you blushing, but you were too wrapped up in the feel of him to care.

The way your walls were sucking him in and pulsing around his cock, like you were made just for him, was enough to make him cum right then and there.

“Mmmph, Gator you feel so… g-good.” Managing to squeak out, the head of his cock continually massages that spot on your frontal wall with ease.

“Missed this pussy so fuckin' much. Been dreamin’ about the day I could… fuck… cum in her again.” His thrusts get more urgent, as your pussy flutters around him once more.

“Yeah, Bunny? Want my cum? Stuff you full until you can't take anymore?” You whimper at his words, that coil within you winding tighter with each in and out motion working you both toward your high.

He nips at the soft skin at your bared throat, gaining your attention.

“Huh, bunny?”

Barely able to think or speak at this point, you nod at his question knowing he wants an answer. He moves his mouth higher, taking your bottom lip between his, sucking lightly before letting it go with a slight pop. He loved you like this. Too cock drunk to speak and about to fall apart only for him.

He moves his hand between you, expertly finding your clit, as he begins rubbing circles against you working in tandem with his thrusts bringing you closer to the edge. Your back arched off the bed, crying out.

“Fuck! Don't stop!” You huffed out.

“Wouldn't dream of it, sweet thing. Need you t’cum f’me. Gonna leave you so full I'll be leaking out of ya’ for days.” Another whimper slipped out, just as that coil began to snap.

You didn't have time to warn him before your pussy clamped down around him.

“Oh fuck! There she is.” He hissed out, taking his hand from you so he could pound you into oblivion, chasing his own release while working you through yours.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, sure they were drawing blood at this point from the grip you had on him. Your orgasm hit so hard that your toes curled as sparks flew behind your eyelids.

A few more thrusts and he follows behind you, his dick throbbing and kicking up inside of your tight channel as his balls tightened, painting your walls with his spend. He continued to fuck it into you, cursing and panting before collapsing onto your chest.

“Oh fuck Bunny. Goddamn, I missed you.” It came a little muffled, his lips pressed up against you where his head lay in the crook of your neck.

“I missed you too, baby.” You hummed, as he finally pulled his softening cock from you, laying on his side, so you could be face to face kissing the tip of your nose and pulling you close.

“You're an idiot, if you thought I was going to run. We've come too far to give up now.” You whispered, with warm affection and brushing his hair softly from his forehead before leaning in for a kiss before you were so rudely interrupted with a loud knock.

“10 minutes Tillman!” The guard shouted through the door.

“Fuck.” He hissed, leaning his forehead to yours. “That went by too fast.”

“Yeah, it did.” You giggled, kissing his cheek, sitting up.

“Hey,” grasping your hand, once more looking at the ring on your hand. “I’m sorry ya’ fell in love with such a fuck up.”

“I'm not. You're a good man, Gator Tillman. You just needed a push in the right direction. No one ever thought you were a fuck up except Roy and look where he is.” You placed your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

You finally pulled away to get up and get dressed, as he followed suit knowing your time was dwindling.

“You better grab a cookie, while you still can.” Pulling your shirt back over your head.

“Bun, I got my sugar fix.” Grabbing you from behind, pulling you back into his chest, kissing your cheek as you melted into his touch. “Just needed my sweet thing.”

The door swung open, jarring you both from a few moments of bliss.

“Thank God your dressed.” The guard sighed and laughed as you both rolled your eyes.

You faced him quickly, stealing away one more kiss.

“I'll be back next week.” Smiling softly.

“I know, baby.”

You watched him go, winking at you before he walked out the door.

The next few weeks were a blur, seemingly going by in the blink of an eye.

You had said your goodbyes in Lehigh. Henry throwing you a small going away party for the hell of it. There were a few tears and lots of well wishes. Of course, Maggie made you promise to keep in touch.

You could have easily used the money that Gator had supplied for the next couple of months, but you didn't see a reason to waste it all. Using it more for a nest egg for the both of you.

Finding a job wasn't difficult. Every bar or diner usually had a high turnover, easily securing a waitressing job at a diner not far from your apartment.

Life went on for the next few months. Seeing Gator weekly, phone calls every other day to get you by.

As it drew closer to his incarceration hitting the one-year mark, you became anxious. The parole board would be looking at a possible early release and you had hoped the feds would put a good word in for him, but it wasn't a given.

“So, by this time next week we'll know if you're finally a free man?” Phone pressed to your ear, sitting on a wooden crate by the dumpster out behind the diner.

“Yup. Warden told me yesterday that the parlor board was already reviewing the case.” He sounded hopeful but you weren't convinced.

“That’s great baby.” Voice coming out a little weak, ready for all of this to just be over and done with.

“Cheer up, Bunny. I have a feelin’ it'll all work out.”

You hoped he was right. Never failing to believe what came out of his mouth. He had a way of sounding so sure of everything.

The day of the hearing, you sat by the phone practically chewing your nails down to the quick. Busying yourself with whatever would distract you, but it wasn't working, as you found yourself glancing at the nearby clock every few minutes the closer it drew to noon when the hearing would begin.

You knew it may be a while before you would hear from him, but anticipation and anxiety were getting the better of you.

12:15, 12:30, 12:45

Still no word. It felt like torture, every agonizing second drawn out.

Suddenly that familiar number popped up, quickly pressing that green button with frenzied energy.

“This is a call from Sandstone Correctional Institute. To accept this call from Gator Tillman please press 1.”

You held your breath as it connected him over.

“Bunny?” His almost breathless voice came through the line.

“Hey, baby. I'm here.” You rushed out, heart pounding in your chest.

“I'm coming home.”

Home. Such a funny notion to him now.

He didn't think of the house on the ranch or even Lehigh. He only pictured you. Your kind smile that captivated him the first time he laid eyes on you. That unruly mouth that could knock him down a peg but was heaven all the same. He loved everything about you.

The only person that had ever made him feel truly loved.

He was coming home to you.

Processing was completed and 48 hours later you were sitting outside the prison gate, leaning against your car.

The loud buzz signaling the gate opening grabbed your attention as he strolled out. That cocky demeanor was still intact, dick first, head held high; smirking when he spotted you across the lot already running toward him.

You jumped straight into his open arms, being fully enveloped by him burying your head into his chest. It was like you could finally breathe for the first time in months.

“It's finally over?” You spoke timidly, holding tight as if he might be wrenched from your grasp.

“It's over.” A simple but all-encompassing answer; both free to live the lives you want.

“So, where to handsome?” Starting the car and looking over to him.

“Well, I thought we could make a stopover in Scandia.”

You quirked an eyebrow his way.

“Uh… My sister, Nadine, well Dot reached out to me a couple of days ago. Thought we might swing by.” He smiled and shrugged.

“You have a sister?”

“Yeah. Well, she was also my stepmom. Long story.” He chuckled.

“Gator, what the hell?” Rushing out with a look of abject horror on your face.

“Bunny, it's not what you think. I can tell you all about it on the way. She's expecting us for supper.” He leaned over, kissing your cheek.

“God, your family is more fucked up than I thought.” Pulling out of your spot and getting onto the highway.

He grasped your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Yeah, but you still agreed to marry me.” He grinned.

“I haven't agreed to shit. You still have to ask.” Giving him a smirk in return but admiring the ring proudly situated on your left hand. You wouldn't trade him for the world.

You'd gone through literal hell, and you weren't about to let him go now. It didn't matter where the two of you ended up as long as you were together.

#gator tillman #gator tillman smut #gator tillman fluff #🐊#badge bunny series #gator tillman x female reader #gator tillman x badge bunny #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman fanfiction #gator x bunny #badge bunny au

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xxsycamore · 1 year ago

Text

'𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐌 𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄

↬ ❤ You make Roy's number one dirty fantasy come true.

Roy Mustang x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Fetish; Fetish Clothing; Skirts; Secret Relationship; Sex in a Car; Semi-Public Sex; Teasing; Fondling; Hand & Finger Kink; Vaginal Sex; Creampie; Dom/sub Undertones • wordcount: 2,183 • masterlist

And the rest of the world could disappear and I wouldn't care

'Cause I'm on fire.

(namesake song by Stateless)

a/n: Don't rewatch fma years later if you've become a writer somewhere along the way. You'd have something you want to get out of your system and it will be embarrassing.

"Are you cold, Lieutenant?"

Like a switch that's been flipped, Roy's tone changes once he finds himself alone with you. It was just a second ago when he gave the chauffeur an order, quick and straightforward, putting a start to the two-hour-long ride and shutting the metal cover of the partition that provides privacy to the backseat. Of course, you're accompanying Roy today - it's just you - and having known that in advance, while your Colonel's brilliant mind was at work crafting military plans, yours was coming up with plans of its own. Ones that are quite different in nature.

Your heart rate had quickened the moment you found yourself in the vehicle with Roy. No, even earlier than that. With hot blood pumping through your veins, there's no way you could be cold as per his question. But Roy is oh so perceptive when it comes to you; caring in the way the question rolled off his tongue, colored by his noticeably softer tone.

He's asking you because you're still wearing that long black coat over your uniform today, neatly buttoned all the way up, even if the sun did its best to warm up the earth so that the hours around noon offer weather that is rather pleasant.

And if you said you are cold? What would he do then?

With a well-measured chuckle, you slip into your more casual persona, remembering that you're now behind closed doors, so to say.

"Quite the contrary, I was thinking of taking this off now."

Over the rustling of clothes, your ears pick up on the small humming of part-curiosity part-confusion leaving Roy's mouth. The shared seat is rather cramped in the most perfect way, making your efforts at brushing past Roy's form inconspicuous as you strip off the overcoat. You need his eyes on you for what is about to follow.

You make sure you're half turned to the Colonel as you rise yourself off the seat so you can not only shrug it off your shoulders but also discard it completely to be half-decently folded and soon-to-be-forgotten, at your other side.

"Ah, that's much better—" The words are not yet fully out past your lips before Roy reacts. Your smile widens with mischief as you're granted a few silent seconds which stretch out to a blissful eternity, full of staring freely at Roy's expression. That's the face of a man getting a hard-on, if you know one.

Roy's deep dark eyes are wide with surprise, glued at your lower half, mouth slightly ajar. You're waiting for him to return the gaze. When he finally does, you're witnessing a new shift in his mood.

"What are you wearing, Lieutenant?"

Playing coy, you run a hand across your hip, from knee to the hem of that piece of clothing that seems to have captured Roy's attention so immensely. You swear you can hear the hitching of his breath as you graze the material with the tips of your fingers, barely dragging it higher up your hip than it already is, revealing more of your bare skin underneath.

"Oh, this? I found my old uniform at the bottom of my closet the other day, and… I made some adjustments."

The cheap lie of your casualness is see-through, when Roy can tell the effort behind those modest adjustments. What once was an ordinary part of your blue Amestrian state military uniform has been diligently reshaped into something so wicked and out of place with the attributes it once bore.

At least, that's how most people would see it.

You know that it's clear as day to Roy that you've actually taken care of everything to the tiniest detail; the thin silvery edges along the front pleads and the slit on the left side.

"A miniskirt?" Roy's chuckle is him regaining his composure, and his glove-clad hand palming the ball of your knee is his barely contained interest. It's hard not to part your legs right there and then, almost as if this is the signal you've been waiting for.

"A tiny miniskirt! C'mon Colonel, where is your enthusiasm? This is me showing commitment and loyalty to your high ideals…!"

Playing with fire, you take Roy's hand and guide it upwards to the subject of the conversation. The warmth of your skin is still penetrable as you can feel Roy's burning touch where it comes in contact with it. You egg him on, despite the time and the place, or maybe exactly because of the risk they carry.

"You can treat this as a preview, for the day you finally reach your goal…" You reach out a hand to caress his face, but Roy is quicker, catching it in his grasp.

"Here's my enthusiasm."

With a swift manner, you find yourself manhandled into the position Roy desires, seated on his lap - with your back to him.

Relentlessly, Roy's large palm is laid on the place between your shoulder blades as he pushes, making you bend forward.

You grunt, less out of discomfort than of surprise weaving along with pure desire pooling in your abdomen.

"It's quite short, isn't it? Are you even aware that you're giving me a flash of your underwear right now?"

It's firm and matter-of-factly, Roy's tone, as he sends shivers down your spine, forced to realize you're no longer in control of the speed of events. He could pull out his cock right now and you'd obediently sit back without protest, only able to lament the loss of the rest of the teasing you never got to inflict on your Colonel.

You all but feel his gaze on your ass, the lack of contact killing you as you feel your legs begin to slightly cramp from holding the position. Perhaps your hyper-concentration is what lets you know he is taking off his gloves right now, the faint, familiar sliding sound of the thin material indicating things you can't even wrap your mind around despite being all the same ready for. Luckily Roy doesn't leave you hanging for much longer, even if his next action rips out an embarrassing gasp out of you.

"Ah—"

Sensing his big, strong hands suddenly coming to grasp and grope the globes of your ass through the material of your skirt, or at least the part it does cover a part of, you shamelessly feel desire seeping wetly inside your panties, staining them right where Roy's gaze is bored into. You're all on display for him, and you like it, in combination with the way he squeezes and pulls your asscheeks apart, that's your confirmation. That's exactly what Roy's dirty fantasies were made of, and you're making them all come true right now.

At this point, you should've expected the small slap he gives your ass, but nonetheless you still flinch when Roy leaves a faint imprint of his palm on your cheek.

"Turn around for me."

Without skipping a beat, you shift your position between his long legs, eager to be welcomed in his embrace. Roy lets you straddle him, your legs coming to rest on either side of his, and inevitably your tiny miniskirt rides up even more.

Roy lets out a low humming noise, palming your newly exposed heat through the underwear, and you can tell he felt the wet patch stained with your arousal. He guides you to sit down on him comfortably, but instead of relaxing, you tense up as soon as you feel his raging hard-on tenting his trousers.

You really made him diamonds, a smirk playing on your face with the thought, despite how progressively lightheaded you get. Perhaps there's still room for a witty remark or two before he steals your ability to form coherent words.

"On a second thought… I think I might be rather cold in this skimpy thing…"

You reach out to find his hands, wanting to guide them on your body again, but Roy barely needs the encouragement. With your hands on top of his, he traces the skin of your thighs, exposing you in a lie as he feels how hot your flesh is the more he nears the apex of your thighs.

"Caress me, Roy… set me on fire with your touch…"

The call of his name does things to him you can only vaguely imagine by the way his lower lip slightly twitches. You can tell he's been craving for you to call him by his name in the sea of formality surrounding your daily lives. Right here and right now, he's your Roy; he wants to hear it again and again, and you make use of knowing it well.

"I'll take good care of you, then."

Unzipping his trousers, Roy distracts you with a long-awaited kiss as he makes quick work of his garments, freeing his aching cock. True to his word, his hands continue to roam on you, under the short coat of your uniform, then under your skirt; fingers sticking in the hem of it, toying with it but never taking it off. That's good, that's what you made it for, he needs to enjoy seeing it on you to his fullest.

In contrast to how much he takes his time caressing you, the way he puts your panties to the side is all but cruel and rushed, as if the barrier separating you offends him.

You expect him to shove his cock in you in a heartbeat, but he has other plans. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he maneuvers you up again so your glistening lower lips are only slightly grazing the tip of his cock. So close, yet so far from becoming one with him.

"You're going to pay for doing this when I can't get my fill of you."

Hearing those words, you suck on a breath, eager to know what he means. He gives you the answer without having to ask.

"Nothing to bend you over on. Not enough room to fuck your beautiful thighs."

You mewl as you finally feel his warm hand on your bare heat, wetness pooling on his palm as he rubs your folds in a way that isn't even remotely enough to spark satisfaction.

Maybe he's right, this is cruel of you; the images he paints in your imagination are all too vivid and dreamy when the only thing you can think of is presenting himself to him, enticing him to finally, finally-

Before a loud moan can escape your throat, Roy's hand clasps around your mouth, sealing it shut so no sound can leave. The other he uses to push you down on his cock, piercing you with it on one swift, long thrust.

You pulsate around him, walls tightening and refusing to relax as if afraid he'll deprive you of this pleasure as quickly as he gifted it to you.

Roy doesn't take his hand off just yet, knowing all too well that you have a lot more of those sweet sounds in you that are not suitable for the risky situation you're currently in. Paying attention to the volume of his own voice, he whispers more filth against your nape, bringing forth goosebumps.

"Relax so I can finally fuck you like you wanted to. That's what all of this was for, right? You wanted to be pounded good?"

Feeling Roy beginning to move you up and down on his cock, you can barely think of giving him an answer, but maybe your body does the speaking for you anyway.

"One day I'll seriously have you wear these things around me all the time. Would you mind then, I wonder? Or would you be getting off on the thought of how much you rile me up everytime I catch a glimpse of what's under your skirt?"

Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes with how good it all feels, his dirty promise, or this little taste you're given of how such a scenario would play out, you do your best to follow Roy's movements as you fuck yourself on his cock harder than how he tries to make you.

The fierce look he gives you with those dark, lust-clouded eyes, is already driving you closer and closer to the edge, and you want to drag Roy together with you. In an attempt to seal his lips with yours, Roy shows mercy and removes his hand from your mouth, changing it for his own mouth.

His low grunts are something you'll hear in your head for days, as he erupts in you right as you fall in the abyss of pleasure, meeting him halfway. His scorching hot semen shoots in you in several pumps as you helplessly tremble in Roy's arms, trusting him to catch you when your body goes limp with pleasure.

He calms down from his high gradually, petting your back as you continue to cum around him.

Not pulling out just yet, Roy kisses the last sparks of afterglow from your lips, making sure you both enjoy this moment to the fullest.

At least until the next time you both can indulge in those perverse fantasies again.

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#fullmetal alchemist #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #roy mustang #fma roy #fmab roy #fullmetal alchemist roy #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood roy #fullmetal alchemist fanfic #fma fanfic #fma smut #fullmetal alchemist smut

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mymisfitsbabe · 10 months ago

Text

Billy had just finished cleaning his kitchen, just finished putting away the last clean plate when someone pounded on the front door. Frowning, Billy pulled off his apron and tossed it on the counter.

“Who is it?” Billy asked as he padded over on bare feet to the closed door.

“Who the fuck do you think it is? Open the Goddamn door.” Gator called back.

“You can't just start showing up here, Tillman.”

“Just open the fucking door before I kick it down, Hargrove.”

Opening the door Billy sighed.

“What are you doing he- What the fuck is that?” Billy hissed as Gator pushed into his trailer and handed him a large furball.

“It's a dog.” Gator sneered as he moved further into the small living room.

“Uh, and why the fuck did you bring it here?” Billy asked as it wiggled in his hold, it's sandy brown fur already shedding onto his black shirt.

Gator turned and gave Billy an exasperated look, but Billy's focus shifted as he spotted the shiner Gator sported under his right eye. Gator was still in his police uniform, his vest had some blood on it and he was covered in dirt splotches. He smelled like sweat and dogs.

“What the hell happened to you?” Billy asked, shifting the pup to one arm so he could grab Gator's face and get a good look at his eye.

“Nothin. Anyways, you need a dog round here since it's so easy to break in this shit hole.”

“Oh fuck off, just cause you decided to go all psycho horror movie on me doesn't mean I need a damn dog.” Billy passed the ball of fur back to Gator.

“Just keep the fucking dog, Bills. It ain't gonna kill you.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do with it? I'm at work 12 hours a day.”

“Take it with you, Benny loves dogs and the shop is gated off.”

“Great, then give Benny the dog if he loves them so much.”

“I didn't get the dog for Benny, I got it for you.”

Billy sighed, as Gator set the dog on the couch. The thing was huge for a pup, thick sandy brown fur with bright brown eyes. It's paws and ears seemed too big for its body and the thing looked half wild.

“Where'd you get it from anyways?” Billy asked, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing the pup suspiciously.

“It's a police pup reject. The mom got knocked up by a wolf and this is the pup. Bright side is it's trained.” Gator rambled as he sat next to the pup and started petting it's head.

“A wolf? You want me to keep a wolf as a pet?” Billy balked.

“Course, they make great guard dogs. Roy has a pack of bout six back home.”

“Gator, I don't know. I've never had a dog before,” Billy carted a hand through his shaggy hair and sighed. “I don't have food for it and the store is closed.”

Gator shrugged, his face turning down. “I got stuff in the truck, you don't need to get it nothing. I just thought you'd like it. It's gotta be shit being out here alone all the time.”

Gator was chewing on his lip, looking like he'd been kicked and Billy sighed. “What’s his name?”

“Gator Jr.” Gator smirked up at Billy.

“That's a shit name.” Billy said arching a brow and suppressing and grin

“Fuck you, Gator's an awesome name.” Gator threw the old beat up couch pillow at Billy.

Billy caught it and laughed. “I'm not calling him Gator, pick a different name you fucking redneck.”

Gator jutted his lip out and scratched the back of his head. “Fine, I guess her name is Eleven then. That's whats on her tags.”

“Christ, there's eleven of them?”

“Yeah, but the others are full German shepherds. The station is gonna keep those.”

“Go get her stuff and show me how to not kill her.” Billy sighed.

#caligator #harringrove #billy hargrove #gator tillman #stranger things #fargo #Puppy love #i got the brain rot #i love them your honor #If trash why hot #ao3

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rendy-a · 1 year ago

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Hello can i request a yandere Vil and Rook with a reader who's disguised as a male? Probably the magic mirror had a slip up and chose not just a magicless student but also a female.

AAAAA HERE A PEACE OFFERING, I LOVED READING THAT POST ABOUT THE YANDERE EPEL AND ROOK.

HOPE YOU LIKE IT, MADE IT SPECIFICALLY FOR THIS.

This is the first piece of fan art I’ve gotten. I feel so special! Thank you for the gift. In turn, I hope you enjoy this piece. I wanted to keep it gender neutral, so I made it into a rumor that the Prefect might be a girl. You can decide for yourself if the rumor is true or not!

All over school, there was a new rumor being spread. Students everywhere were asking, “Have you heard? The Prefect of Ramshackle is a girl!” Of course, various friends of the Prefect were quick to shut down such rumors. As such, it had never been proven or disproven; merely speculated. Even in their own hearts though, the question lingered. Was the Prefect a girl?

Secrets. Just the word made Vil’s stomach turn. And there you were, his precious Sweet Potato, talking to your first-year friends. And keeping secrets from him. Vil pushes his lunch away with such force it nearly flies off the table. Rook looks over with a sharp smile, “Why Roi du Poison, what has caused you such ire?” Rook’s tilted head and inquiring gesture seem to say, ‘tell me what bothers you’ but his eyes, narrowed in delight, seem to remind Vil that he already knows. Vil pushes away from the table and struts from the lunchroom. This situation was beneath him, so he’d just leave it behind. The only thing he couldn’t leave behind was you. Something had to be done about you and your secrets.

---

“Are we not close, Prefect?” Vil asked you softly. Although it was spoken kindly, the question put a chill down your spine. “Of course we are, Vil,” you replied hesitantly. It had been a strange week for you. All around school, students had started treating you subtly different. Plus, there were so many leading questions. We’re friends, aren’t we? You know I can keep a secret, right? Is there anything you want to tell me? All of it was rather strange and you just had no idea what to do about it.

“Hmm,” a considering hum from Vil pulls you out of your reverie, “These garments don’t really suit you, do they?” You looked down at the old dingy school uniform Crowely had dug up for you from somewhere. “I don’t think this particular uniform suits anyone,” you truthfully replied. “Everyone deserves an outfit that suits them,” Vil replied dryly, “and you…” He trailed off before finishing and when you looked up at him, he had an unexpectedly fond look in his eye. “Come with me, Prefect. I have just the thing for you. Since we are so close and all.”

Vil has such a magnetic personality that when he said ‘come with me’ you had never considered not obeying. As such, you found yourself escorted to Pomefiore and sat on a lovely chaise lounge at the foot of the Housewarden’s bed. Then Vil retreated into a large walk-in closet after bidding you to not touch anything. You wondered vaguely if he kept anything dangerous in his room. Pomefiore students were known for their proficiency with poisons, after all. You looked at the multitude of bottles that sat on desks and shelf space and played a game with yourself; was that bottled liquid a perfume or a poison?

The sound of the closet door opening brought your attention back to Vil, who had emerged with a pile of purple fabric in his arms. He shook it out and you found it to be a Pomefiore dorm uniform. “Do you keep extras in there?” you asked confused. “No,” Vil replied evenly, “this one is mine. Now go put it on.” You blanched at his statement, “YOUR uniform? Oh no, I could never.” Vil cut you off, “Don’t argue with me Potato, just go get it done,” then he smiles at you wickedly, “unless you need help?” You let out a small yelp, grab the uniform and dash off to the closet to change.

You managed to get it on but you couldn’t say it fit particularly well; after all, Vil had the proportions of a model and you were just…you. You entered the room and gave Vil a shrug, “Well, that’s that.” He sighs at you, “Have you never heard of tailoring, Potato? Now stand on this stool. I need to take your measurements.” You did as directed, standing on a small stool while Vil gathered measuring tape. “You aren’t actually going to give me your dorm unform, are you?” He gives you a withering look, “Potato, you can’t expect me to wear last season’s robe all year long, can you?” Maybe it was the plush feeling of the velvet-soft robe against your skin instead of the threadbare uniform from Crowley, but you decided to accept that explanation.

“Ok, just tell me what to do,” you say and give Vil a grateful look. “Hold out your arms, I’m going to take some measurements.” He begins with your arms and then the shoulders. You meet his eye then and suddenly you feel nervous, like a warning stirs deep within. Your instincts shout that you’ve been lured into a trap of some kind, but you are unable to see the snare. Finally, Vil breaks eye contact first, “Now I’m going to measure around the chest.” He leans in until his chest lays against your own and reaches behind you to grab the end of the measuring tape and bring it back to the front to read the measurement. By the time he’s taken the measurement, a satisfied smile graces his lips. You scold yourself quietly for overreacting; nothing overly strange had happened.

“One more, just to be sure,” Vil says to you softly. You tilt your head in question and Vil elaborates, “I mean there is one last measurement I’d like to take; the inseam.” Underneath the heavy outer robe was a black inner garment consisting of a shirt and pant. You open the robe enough to allow Vil to measure the pant. Before he leans in, he assures you, “Nothing to worry about, Prefect, I’m a professional.” You look at him with skepticism, “Are you?” He looks at you with humor, “of course, it’s a secret of mine,” then his look gets far more serious, “I wonder what secrets you might have, Prefect.”

You twitter at him, “Oh nothing big. I’m a spy, I’m attending school as a secret mission, and I also have a spouse and 7 children. You know, the usual.” He gives you a narrow-eyed look, “Is that so? Well, if you DID happen to have a secret, I just want you to know it would be safe to tell me.” You only give him a smile and raised eyebrow in response. When no further secrets were found to be forthcoming, Vil smiled and replied, “Right, we’ll just do it like this then.” Then he takes the measuring tape and slides it up the inseam, taking the measurement. You turn your face away, embarrassed at the closeness of his hand to your intimate area but remind yourself firmly that he is only taking measurements.

Finally, when finished, Vil pulls back with a secretive smile. You supposed that he was satisfied at having all the measurements he required. Or maybe he noticed the slight belly bulge you had from eating double desserts at lunch. Perhaps you should have just confessed at the beginning? No, you assure yourself, it was never wise to confess to overindulgence in front of Vil Schoenheit. But whatever the reason, Vil was happy to release you to change out of his former uniform and back into your ramshackle one. He smiled at you very sweetly before telling you that he’d have it altered by the end of the week.

His estimate was accurate. It was only Friday when Vil came knocking at the door of Ramshackle and presented you with a garment box containing the finished uniform. You smiled as you ran your hands over the soft fabric; this was yours now! Vil also seems pleased with your interest in it and asks, “So, where do you plan to wear this, Potato?” You laugh happily back, “Oh, it would be strange to wear it around campus, so I think I’ll just save it to wear to bed. It’s got to be the softest and warmest thing I own.”

“To bed?” Vil says with a start. Then a coy expression comes across his face as he says, “Yes, Sweet Potato, do that. And when you do, I give you permission to dream of me.” You manage to not let any strange expressions cross your face at this unusual response and simply remark, “Perhaps I will. It can be our little secret.” At those words, you earn a dazzling smile from the beautiful Vil, “Yes Potato, as many secrets as you’d like. I’ll keep them all for you.”

Surprise was one of life’s great rewards. It takes something familiar and expected and changes it into something new and exciting. When that thing is also the object of your fascination, the effect is exquisite. At least that is the opinion of Rook when he first hears an interesting rumor about the Prefect of Ramshackle dorm. To think, all this time, his beloved Trickster could still have mysteries left to uncover, c’est magnifique! He feels some sympathy for the poor Prefect and their lack of privacy, but he can hardly blame the interested students; not when the possibilities have set his own hunter’s instincts aflame.

---

Any time Coach Vargas announces a special event for PE, all the students of NRC shudder. “Have you ever heard the inspiring story of the Sword in the Stone?” began the innocent enough class. “Legend told of a sword magically embedded in a stone that could only be drawn by the true ruler of the land. Many attempted to remove it and failed until one young prince drew it forth,” Vargas continued with a grin, “Some said it was destiny while others complained of dark magic, but I know in my heart what was the deciding factor…BICEPS!” Vargus finishes off this explanation with a pose showcasing his own overlarge arms.

The class cringed collectively, feeling an unpleasant task approaching. “In honor of this fine achievement in physical prowess, the staff has hidden three symbolic swords in the NRC school forest. The assignment this week will be to hike into the forest and seek out these swords. The grade that collects the first sword will have bragging rights over the others!” Someone raises a hand and asks, “And what if we don’t find a sword in time?” Vargus looks disturbed for a short moment before he covers by shouting, “Why then you’re all wimps! So go out there and find one! Class dismissed!”

“Bonjour!” comes a greeting from behind. You break from your inspection of the tree line to see Rook standing beside you. “Hello Rook. Are you setting off to hunt for the swords too?” He smiles at you in a mysterious way, “Non, I merely came to speak to you, Trickster.” You tilt your head, “Oh?” Rook’s smile deepens, “Have you heard the rumor?” You give a start; you had noticed students treating you oddly lately, was there a rumor going around about you? “No, I haven’t. Are you going to tell me?” With a nod, Rook continues, “Oui. You see…last year one of the swords wasn’t found. Rumor has it that the sword is still hidden somewhere in the woods. To find such a query would be merveilleux!”

So, it wasn’t about you after all. Still, it was an interesting rumor. “So, what happens if someone finds the missing sword, I wonder?” you say offhandedly. Rook smiles his mysterious smile, “Coach Vargas was quite alarmed when it couldn’t be found. He hunted for it himself a great deal. I think he’d be most impressed if it was discovered.” A challenge not even Vargas with his stamina and drive could conquer, yes, he’d be impressed. Then you smile and offer to walk with Rook to class. After all, the first years had plenty of time to find a sword. It was only Monday.

“And that’s how I found the last sword!” said a third year from Diasomnia in an arrogant tone causing a cheer to go up among the Diasomnia lunch tables. Epel looked at you quietly and then said, “That was the last one and the first years didn’t find any. What do you think is going to happen to us now?” You shake your head sadly at Epel and respond, “I think we are sunk.” You hear an interested hum come from further down the Pomefiore table you sit at, “Sunk, are you Trickster? Then you’d better swim, non?” You smile ruefully back at Rook, “Sadly, I’m not dressed for swimming today.” He smiles in a satisfied tone and says mischievously, “Why Trickster, then you’ll just have to go au naturel.” You feel your face begin to heat, “Like skinny dipping? No way, I’d never do that!” Rook laughs good naturedly, “Don’t be so quick to dismiss it, Trickster. You’d be faster without clothing, and it wouldn’t drag you down. Plus, it is so much easier to dry when your clothes remain on shore.” You look at Rook in amazement and start to ask him if he has had a lot of experience with the topic when you decide, no, you’d rather not know.

You turn back to Epel and remind him, “Well, there is always the rumored fourth sword out there.” He looks at you like you are crazy, “What fourth sword?” You turn your head towards the other end of the table to ask Rook to tell the story again but see that he and Vil have already departed the table. You shrug your shoulders and say, “Never mind.” Maybe you’d go look for it yourself just in case the rumor was true. Plus, it was pleasant weather this time of year, so hiking in the woods wasn’t a bad way to spend your free time.

You set off hiking on a trail Rook had recommended. You hadn’t specifically mentioned the sword hunt, just that you were looking for a nice off-the-beaten-path hike. Rook spent copious amounts of time in the woods keeping his hunting skills sharp. You knew he could recommend an interesting place. Plus, the third years had found the first sword quickly. Most of the rest of the students had taken that easy win to slack off the rest of the week. You figured that meant many of Rook’s paths might not have been traveled. Maybe, if you were very lucky, you’d find that fourth sword and pull off a miracle for the first years. Your PE grades could certainly use one, considering Grim was in charge of flight classes for your pair. With that dismal thought, you set off.

The path Rook recommended was a steep climb to begin but, after you reached the initial summit, it was a lovely trail. The trees rustled gently, and the sound of a stream could be heard in the distance. The only thing bothering you was a slight feeling of unsettledness that you couldn’t shake. NRC was a safe school but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be a dangerous wild animal in the forest. You hadn’t seen any yet but there was a certain feeling of watchfulness that you felt in the deep wood. Or maybe you were just creeped out by being alone out here.

You were troubled by the sensation until you reached the stream, there, the tree line gave way to the meandering water and the sunlight shone down gently. You smiled at the open sky, grateful for the change in tone. You’d had enough of a creepy wood but a sunlight riverwalk sounded downright pleasant. You made better time in the light and soon found yourself at a branching fork in the road. One path led along the stream the way you’d been going; the other path was across a makeshift bridge made of a fallen log. You could tell the stream fork continued in both directions but the path across the river would be harder to walk as it was more of a wild game trail than a proper path.

You considered the options and started along the easy path because, why not? Only, then you paused and considered your real reason for being out here. If the fourth sword did exist, would it be on an easy to hike path? You returned to the fork, gazing across the river. You felt a certain sort of tension in the air, as though the forest itself was waiting with bated breath to see if you’d cross the path. And so, you did. You followed the trail past several forks, each time taking the more difficult looking path in stubborn pride, until you heard a change in the sound of the stream. You turned a bend to see the stream tumble down a small waterfall into a woodland lake. It was quite beautiful but this sight that took your breath away was the gleam of metal on an island in the center. It couldn’t be and yet, it was. You’d found the rumored fourth sword.

The new issue was the island was quite a distance into the lake. You knew it was unlikely you’d make it to the center by wading and you were not about to go swimming in your hiking clothes. You felt like screaming; you’d come all this way and found the damn sword only to be foiled at the end for such a stupid reason. Then, like inspiration from above, you remembered Rook’s silly comment about skinny dipping. It was ridiculous and yet, you were so far into the woods, who’d even see? So, feeling like you were doing something dangerous and forbidden, you stripped down into your underwear and swam across the lake to the island. There, you laughed and wept to see the gleam was, in fact, one of the swords used in Vargas’ challenge. You’d really done it.

You swam back and stood, admiring the sword for several minutes to give yourself a chance to dry a bit before putting back on your clothes. Then you’d reversed direction and headed back to campus. At each fork, the trail became easier and easier. By the time you were back on campus, you were practically running to show your prize to your first year friends, the trials of the forest long forgotten.

Your friends had been excited and Vargas downright astounded, especially after hearing about where you found the sword. He accepted the item and left muttering about checking every area at least four dozen times if this ever happens again. The person most enthusiastic to hear your story though was Rook. He gave every pause and twist you told him dramatic flair with his gestures and gasps. You could tell he was hamming it up a bit for your sake, but you appreciated the support.

“You know, I owe it all to you and your advice on that trail,” you shyly thank him. He smiles back at you with that sharp and mysterious smile of his, “Oh, no need to thank me Trickster. It is I who should be thanking you. Why, it’s like I accompanied you all the way there. And to be there, in the end.” You laugh way too loud and forced at that, thinking, ‘I’m certainly glad you weren’t there to see that particular end!’ to yourself. Rook continues pensively, almost to himself, “To catch the most valuable prey, you need the rarest bait. I’ll miss my treasure, but I’ve found something more valuable.” You frown at him slightly, “You…you weren’t actually in the woods…were you?” He laughs, “Ah Trickster, what happens in the woods, stays in the woods,” and then departs with you staring nervously after him.

#twst #twisted wonderland #yandere rook hunt #tw: yandere #yandere vil schoenheit x reader #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere vil x reader #yandere rook x reader #yandere rook hunt x reader

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